Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree


I have felt
so much like
a fish out of water,
awkward in situations,
lost from who I am,
flopping on a strange
spit of sand,
to breathe.

This morning
it came to me like
the ruby-throated
hummingbird suddenly
appearing before me
on the wind
that perhaps
I have been cast
from my familiar seas
to grow wings
and become
a fish that

July 19, 2019

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane



Life is . . .
finding a precious coin on the sidewalk,
blissfully unaware that it is the same one you lost
so very long ago.

Posted in Musings

You Don’t Fit


You are a square peg and your world is filled with holes, round ones at that. Is it any wonder you don’t fit?

So stop trying.

Be not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

That renewal does not come from the latest fad, which usually is just a regurgitation of what was popular ten years ago. Or endless hours in front of the screen watching reruns of the same old violent plots.

Originality has gone out the window, along with the manger baby and the baptismal water. Stop trying to be original for originality’s sake.

Be yourself. But in order to do that you need to turn off the noise and the voices around you clamoring for your time, money, and attention. You need to know yourself.

And the One who knows you best.

You will never fit. You are not supposed to. There will always be some discomfort.

But if you seek, you will find . . . your place and contentment.

Posted in Prayers

Gimme Gimme


Wake up every morning
say what you want
grabbing what
you can get
Go to sleep at night
empty heart unsatisfied
trying to
hold onto it

Wake up every morning
open heart asking
what you can give
Go to sleep at night
empty and spent
dying to live

Posted in The Sunday Driver: Life in the Slow Lane



An apt name perhaps
I the creature lured into the trap
by all of the bells
and whistles
Come here, boy!
Fetch your new toy.
O tidings of comfort and joy
I drool to the ringing of Pavlov’s bell
but all is not well,
this thing has stuck to my soul like a thistle.

Neither gentle nor merry does it make me,
I give it power to take me
lead me astray.
Further I am dismayed
by nothing
save that I have become possessed by what I have
something other than the greatest gift
and the rift
between us cannot be bridged by an advertisement.

I am so quick to
give away my soul
that which is more
costly than gold
and sweeter than
honey from the
No matter where
I roam,
through the ringing
and piercing shrieks,
the din of snapping beaks,
a still small voice
offers deliverance and
true satisfaction.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree


Dusk makes all figures into shadows like the flickering forms cast upon the walls of Plato’s cave.

I drive past the blurring silhouettes, knowing that I too am fading into the darkness of my days.

And so I must embrace what I must let go and cease to grasp that which I cannot hold onto.

Strangely enough that is what makes a life of freedom.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree, Poems

Becoming Real


sometimes I have the sinking
suspicion that I am
missing out
that there is something I am
supposed to be doing
that I am subconsciously
I am active
life is good
I am blessed
yet there is this prickling on the
back of my neck

I do not want to move through
life as a ghost and then
suddenly wake up
to find that I have
faded away into

I am haunted by the fear of
never doing anything truly
the lives I have touched
the words I have spoken
the love I have given
the tears I have wiped
away from your eyes
all are swallowed by the
subtle storm of

I may never be
that is the nature of a
creative soul
so I continue
to live
to love
to write
in the hope that the pattern
will become clear
my fading ends and like
the velveteen rabbit
I become more

Posted in Poems

A Society of Discontents

Their purpose is to create a hole within you that never gets filled up.

The latest version of the newest model of the most recent rendition of the smart phone, TV, tablet, computer, gadget is one that you cannot live without.

That is what they tell you.

The snap crackle pop of the latest pop music crackles with the static of love without commitment, fame without responsibility, an endless party while the world burns, shadow puppets on the stage.

Buy what I am selling, they say.

My house is bigger than yours. My tummy and butt are tighter. My penis is larger. My breasts are perfect. I have the face of a goddess. I am the perfect lover. I do not have ED or PE. My children are prodigies. My car is shiny. My vacations are dreamy. My investments are sound. I am more than financially secure. I am the Jones times a million.

You can keep up, they say.

How dare anyone threaten this lifestyle. Missiles, drones, ships, jets, weapons of mass destruction, bombs smart and dumb, they can always come up with a reason, something or someone to fear, to launch destruction.

Aren’t you a patriot? they ask.

Fill it up. Take a long swig. Stuff your face, your pockets, your house, your shopping cart and grocery bags, with as much as it, they, you can hold.

Funny how it is never enough.


Thing (remix) by Son of Wens on SoundCloud

Tongue Screw Records and PeaceGrooves announce a new musical project – Son of Wens. Check out the “Thing (remix)” on SoundCloud.

What’s behind the name Son of Wens?

Stay tuned for an upcoming post – but a clue is here.