Tag Archives: poetry

Gaia, the Earth Goddess

I step from boat to island shore
and she waits for me,
her warm, soft breeze
caresses my cheek,
her lush, verdant scent
fetchingly whispers.

She seduces me.

A gleaming azure sky
calms my agitated mind,
her supple trees drape
the curving roadside,
a satin emerald cloak
befitting the Goddess.

She shimmers for me.

Brilliant sunlight dances
on a turquoise ocean,
waves glittering with diamonds
invite me to play,
graceful sea birds soaring above
call me to be free.

She shines for me.

Exotic languorous lizards
ancient as all time
meander lazily on my path,
scoffing at all clocks,
coaxing me to relax into her
warm, tranquil rhythm.

She soothes me.

Time slips away and
becomes meaningless here,
she feeds my soul
with her enduring grace,
her heart beats to mine
and mine becomes hers.

She saves me.

This poem is an excerpt from my ebook: Our Beautiful Earth

Please share, thanks!

Puzzle

Tick-tock Madman

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That round evil man
with his shallow pretty face
leers from my wall.
Cruelly and incessantly,
he chips away at my life
with his sharp little pick-axe.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

My days mete out
in an endless dribble of
tasks and responsibilities,
and he watches me.
Get up again, do it again,
and again, and again, and again.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

I thought he was my friend
that insidious little man,
Mom said he was!
Just dress for success,
always be on time,
and your life will be right.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Then one day I woke up,
and my life felt all wrong,
Where are my dreams
you cunning little man?
You stole them while
I toiled to your

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Oh poacher of hours!
Is there time for me?
Still hope for me?
The Me you took while
I played by the rules,
always obeying time.

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

And that smug little man
with his false pretty face
just stares coldly at me
from his unfeeling wall.
Silent he is, but for
the relentless

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

Made to Fly

3 Replies

I had a friend
who wanted to
dissect me,
so they could
determine
how to slot me.

I have worked
hard in this life
to de-categorize
and free myself,
why would I
agree to this?

The younger me
would yield
to stay likeable,
but the older me
stands firm
for self-respect.

I’m not an ant
made only
for hard work,
I discovered
I have wings,
I’m a butterfly.

Thanks for
the lesson,
I cannot allow
you to pluck
my wings and
pin me down.

I will not deny
that I am
a butterfly,
real friends
let friends fly,
and so must I.

Black & White & Rainbows

2 Replies

Right, wrong,
north, south,
black, white,
which way do I go?

I have walked the flat
gray plain of existence
that this third dimension
too often can be,
futilely exploring
the monotones of
an oft desolate place,
where each small
blade of grass shivers
sadly in the landscape,
calling out to the sky.

And I have wondered –
If white is all color,
and black its absence,
where are the colors between?

So I’ve left that plain
and I’m climbing
a shining mountain;
I will not rest ’til
I find all the colors,
that grand view above
a too narrow horizon.
The trek is exhilarating,
the views are breathtaking,
and I’m heading for that
brilliant peak yonder.

It’s the place of my dreams,
where rainbows gleam
and eagles soar,
and my soul can live free.