Images Stories

Sounds. Voices. Tingling. “I saw a twitch …” “… His eyelids are fluttering …” “How are we doing today Mr. Stavros? You gave us quite a scare, didn’t he Mrs. Stavros?” The young woman addressing him was dressed in a pale blue pajama holding a clipboard with pen poised to note something indicative. Off to the left side of his visual space was an older woman who seemed to stare intently at him. The younger woman was more att...

I feel like a Dali paintingmy image warpedby your own imaginationImperfection of this bodydesecrated with scarscrafted by your own torturous mindTime meltingwinding back to forgotten dayswords spoken and virtual hugs we sharedMemories soon fadelike forging fire into ashwhich you silently blow awayWhat once we hadhas slowly disappearedof a friendship separated by oceans wideThe drawer within my chestwhich protected our che...

I catch my gazeIn silvered glassWatching who I seeI tilt my headFrom side to sideMaking sure it’s meIs there beauty?Hard to sayI know the face so wellReach my handTo one outstretchedFlesh meets solid coolOlive skinDark curly hairToned figure, real hipsEyes of chocolate brownDark browsFurther down, full lipsSeeing (my own?) image thereBoth blessed and lately cursedWanting to believe  And yetDon’t mirrors show reverse?

There are times I am sure,when others look at me,and see nothing,but an idle mind.If they only knew...What frolics inside my head,they would scurry away in fear.If they could see past my vacant stare.Just behind my eyes.Through the swirling,menagerie of images.If they could hear the voices' intonation,their chants and rants.If they could only see and hear what lurks...That the idle mind I project,is not really me. Every w...

Waves gently washing onto deserted beaches. Moon light glittering across a watery expanse. Warm breezes wafting softly across naked skin. Fanning hot flames deep, deep within. Fire raging, starting to roar, searing my inner soul. Wishing I was not alone, but with another. Sharing this serene, sensual night together. Giant moon gradually sinking into the sea. Leisurely allowing darkness to seize its grasp. Blocking images...

Run-on lines metrically sound, couldn't be found.   Caesura, miscalculated,  left images obfuscated. Alone, bewildered, in my attic I was just churning and churning All the storm-clouds of cliches. Poetry was still-born round the corner.

  Far from the sea, her sighing dunes All wander lost beneath the moons That wax and wane in an eternal sky; Where subtle symphonies of light And wondrous silences of night Draw the four winds from their pavilions, To rage across the stony plains, To drive away the beating rains Towards a pale haze on the horizon. There a spear of sandstone towers; Keeper of the daylight hours And kindly magus of sweet soothing shade. To...