Happiness is Fleeting

beautiful girl enjoying the freshness - stock photo


Happiness is fleeting

You cannot trust it

Everyday there is something new

It may bring sadness, it may bring joy

The trick, I think

Is to enjoy those fleeting moments

To recall them when sorrow comes

To realize that saddens passes

And joy returns, eventually

Best to take a few chances

To not be afraid to try

It is in those fleeting moments

We see a glimpse of pure bliss

It makes us greedy for more

So, we try to fake it

And end up miserable

Because we cannot reproduce

The element of surprise

That takes us off guard

And leaves us speechless

In the wake of such happiness

We never thought could be


My Friend the Poet

It is but a dream
Gentle poet
What the world calls real
For the soul knows
That beauty is ageless
That there is no time
There are only words

It is too real
Gentle poet
Among those who forgot
The music in their souls
Who drowned it out
And refuse to hear
The laughter or the tears

Just a dream
Sweet, gentle, poet
To sooth ourselves
When weary
Chasing dragons
Fighting demons
Loosing sleep

Reality invades
Sweet, gentle, poet
And sets the tune off-key
Distorts the dream
Until the soul
Picks up the instrument
And plays the tune again

Tears are Not Enough.


This is dedicated to a friend who lost her daughter a few weeks back.


Autumn tree silhouette in sunset, wind blowing away the falling leaves - stock vector


Tears are not enough when you have to say goodbye.
Your heart is wrung dry of them; so dried-eyed you stare into space.
No matter how they try to comfort you the words ,they all,fall short; you can’t relate.
A muffled noise is all you hear, as the lights swirl around you, an over-powering of the senses.
She’s gone, those words keep playing in your head, but you can’t quite believe it, this is not how it suppose to be.
She was too young, she had too much to live for, she was supposed to live a long full life.
This is not the way it is supposed to be she should have lived to bury you.

A Secret Longing Unfulfilled.

A secret longing unfulfilled

A secret desire untamed

I dare not speak it

I dare not give it a name

Too many nights spent all alone

Talking to myself; feeling old

Trying to fight the temptations

Longing to give up and be bold

A persistent, throbbing , aching need

A wild untamable desire

Trying hard to hold it back

But, I feel like I am on fire

Passionate longings go unanswered

I’m stuck here in this mediocrity

Trying as always to be good

But wild things must be free

A secret longing gone unfulfilled

A secret desire gone untamed

I dare not speak it

I dare not give it a name







Your Solitude.

depression, teen depression, pain, suffering, tunnel - stock photo

If I could get you to talk to me my friend, what would I say?

I know the feeling of being alone when you are not alone?

That I know how much it hurts to be rejected and cast aside?

Does misery in fact love company? Or is that only a comfort to the selfish?

I find no comfort in it and prefer to work it out on my own.

Perhaps, that is what you need the most silence and a chance to think.

Unhappy couple - stock photo


I just hope you know I think of you and that I hope for your return.

That I’d never push you to confide in me, but that you have a friend.

One who would sit quietly beside you and not make any demands.

Who would wait for you to talk and would listen when you did.

I hope for all that’s best and have not a single self-interest I wish to claim.

And so I leave you to your solitude and hope you are okay.

Lackluster Days of Winter.


The sun finally decided to come out and so I opened all the blinds.

It cheered my soul to see my old friend looking down on me once again.

The days had been so dark and dull and the snow, once white, now was gray.

The sun flirted with the peaks and left pretty patterns of light dancing on the frozen surface.

Too briefly did he make his appearance and then disappeared behind the clouds.

The peaks absent, now, of light return to a lackluster heap of piled up snow.

And once again I began to mourn with the knowledge that this winter will be long.

That many lackluster days will bring dark dull days filled with nothing but grayness and dead vegetation.