the book of poems

i have a book in which i write my “very best” poems.  i’ve managed ten so far.  these poems were written in the last four or five years.  some of the ones at the beginning are not stellar, certainly, but they are what i wrote.


Your worried face
Looks out of place
I see what lies
Behind your eyes

Reapers grim
Live deep within
And this I find
Inside your mind –

You’re haunted

The daemon’s song
Plays all night long
You body’s chilled
Your blood is spilled

The faeries near
Increase your fear
Your visions play
Until the day

You’re haunted

Your mind grows numb
Your tongue is dumb
And with each breath
Increases death

The shadows speak
Tears do you weep
As faces fade
Your head is laid

Back down. You cry
To stars on high
Save me, please!
You’re on your knees

I hear your voice
You made your choice
You’ve reaped what was sown
Your should have known –

You’d be haunted


Little pin-pricks of
In a
heaven of black
Shimmering, silent, chilled

Sphere of
Flaming brands
of the night
Illuminating, tempestuous, white-hot

Tiny worlds where
ice and flame
battle for dominance
in the mind
of the beholder


Frozen like a statue
She stood ramrod straight
Shoulders rigid
Jaw set
Staring glassy-eyed
Then she melted
And became human again


Cool and confident
He paused for a moment
Then he slowly melted back
Into the shadows
And became
Invisible once more


Blue eyes
Long blonde hair
Pencil and notebook by her side

She writes
Keeps it secret
What’s she trying to hide?

They’re her thoughts
Her dreams
As strange as it seems
She writes for herself
No one else.


Breeze blows
Wings flit
Colors flash
Reflecting sunlight
Flower bends
Weighted down
Tiny burden
Ethereal creature –


Bright, hot
Leaping, warming, giving
Flames, embers, ashes, frost
Glittering, chilling, taking
Cold, beautiful


Defiant she stood
Alone, waiting
For someone to challenge her
Defiant she stood
Alone, hating
This thing she could not understand

Sword in hand
Alone, watching
For that which eluded her
Sword in hand
Alone, searching
Straining her eyes to see round the bend

Defiant she stood
Sword in hand
Alone she was felled
Queen of the land


I wait my knight in shining armor
In a castle on a hill
I can see his road most clearly
Over rock and over rill

His eyes would be like sunbeams
In a dark and gloomy wood
His heart all that it should be
True and noble, kind and good

I would be his standard-bearer
In ev’ry battle he would fight
And no lady could be prouder
Than I would be of my knight

Other maidens may go questing
On their own to find a knight
Deaf to parents’ loud protesting
As to if the quest is right

But I know my knight will find me
So content with this I still
Wait my knight in shining armor
In my castle on the hill


Crisp, clean, sharp
Everything in place
No fault found
No trace
Of anything but
Poise and grace


2 Responses to “the book of poems”

  1. 1, 5, 8, 9. Those were my favorites.

    But I must expound on how much I loved the second to last one, about the knight. For years I have attempted to write such a poem on just such a topic, I haven’t succeeded. Yet here I find, without warning, the perfect representation of it. You’ve written it well, I’m jealous and happy without bound. I even have a goofy grin on my face as I bounce in my chair.

    I have just recently read a good bit of your poetry, and I am quite happy to have discovered your blog. I shall be back. 😀

  2. I think you should start submitting to publishers and poetry related groups; or if you’re just looking to get a start and make yourself a real tangible book check out You can publish books through them. I’m not sure how well they sell, but even just to print yourself a single copy might be neat.

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