I don’t need roses on one day of a year.
I don’t require chocolates to compete with my peers.
When I wake in the morning from a good night of rest
Open my eyes to you whom loves me best
I know eternally from daybreak to next dawn
That it’s the little things that matter, the lyrics to our life song.
Please don’t spend money on trinkets and things
I don’t need a necklace or shiny diamond rings.
I just need your kisses, your hugs, and your arms
I just want to be with you embraced in your charms.
So please keep the chocolates and conversation hearts
Just keep walking with me, our love never part.
Category Archives: poem
Moo-Vee Knight

I wish I were Zuzu’s petals tucked neat within trouser pocket
Or I’d be the photo of Elise and Richard, kept within a locket
I’d sparkle ruby red like the Oz type pair of shoes
Or maybe be the spikey hair of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
I could change my name to Wilson, wouldn’t that be a ball?
Perhaps be a still life in carbon, hanging around on the wall
Oh, to be the infamous sorting hat, four houses I will place
Or to be the heavens of Hollywood, every dream made by a face
What I wouldn’t do to see the world from un-animated eyes
to gain a differed perspective, be unlimited in my disguise
A Real Boy

I want to be a real boy, I don’t want to be a stump
My joints articulating better than my knotty lump
My heart a pumping sap filled core,
with arms outstretched to shelter more
I wait for the carver to create me anew
From my snazzy top hat to my hard wooden shoes.
Direct me, show me, guide life to this oak
Allow me a life, my leaves are all spoke.
Queen in Passing

Solemnity spoke
The night I prayed would never come
has whispered hallowed night
a reclamation of eternal earth
the kiss of chilled winds blight
The hands I loved have now succumbed
The fiery pyre take flesh from sight
a resolution to embrace rebirth
your angelic spirit take flight
Cost of Living

How much am I worth to you?
Another theater, another school?
Another place where people gather
Out in public, or doesn’t it matter?
How much can I pay you for
your children’s blood on classroom floors?
How much is the fiance’ worth
if she’s wedding before the baby’s birth?
Tell me, because I don’t want your guns
you can keep them, I’m wanting none.
If you collect or if you hunt
I have no interest in killing your fun.
But any sane person should agree
that these “daily” mass killings are a spree
With romanticized violence the law of the land,
as responsible owners, please take a stand.
Show them what it means to be smart
Give us something, someplace to start
I don’t want to be afraid to go to the store
become another pawn in this domestic war
If it happens to one it’s a tragedy
but if it happens to more, a statistic you’ll be
Terrorism doesn’t have the brown skin like we’re told
It’s the murderer’s body count, sin chillingly cold.
These Are My People: Linda Looney

A relationship between a mother and daughter
is far more complicated than it oughter
be, with wrecks and disasters no happily ever after
as one struggles to hold on, the other to be free.
But if you ask them, one on one how they feel,
you’ll hear nothing but the true theist spiel
of love and emotion, undying devotion
between mother and child, where nothing is mild
when familial blood runs rivers through reconciled
years washed pure in the hopeful heart referred
“Glad to be of help.” the moniker tenured
Ben
What hands have held my face, to stare into my soul?
What lips have breathed a lifetime of my kisses stole?
What voice has whispered me my truth, my secrets sealed untold?
What arms have held me in a haven, my broken heart consoled?
What legs have walked a million miles to cross my sacred threshold?
What heart has answered the siren’s song our bindings to behold?
What worth is placed on eternal devotion, more valuable than gold?
What gifts be given to thine own true love, from youthful glow to old?
Moon Mother
Of our spirit comes forth a light that cannot be denied
A token of our birthright, our power her wedded bride
Raise our hands up to the moon to draw her down to see
Sing in sky-clad voices, to the tune played three times three
Hark! Hail! We greet you with our bodies meet your night
Hark! Hail! We honor you with this our hearth-fire light.
Hark! Hail! We beckon you to join our ecstasy
Hark! Hail! We dance for you, dear Mother, Blessed Be!
Rumble Strip
Here!
Let me strip naked, remove my facade,
so you can see inside of me
that I’m human
and not God
Here!
Let me wipe away my poker face
so you can peek beneath the mask
realize my barren
mundane task
Here!
Let me demonstrate how dying feels
be locked up without parole
be removed totally
life without a soul
Season with Earth
The colors of the Autumn breeze
dancing rainbows round naked trees
Browning of the greenest grass
brightness of the death contrasts
Orange, yellow, green, brown, red
briefly
intensely
witnessed as dead
The icy winds begin to blow
hailing
beckoning
oncoming snow
I watch in mourning staring cloudy skies
the loss of warmth from Summer’s prize.
Deep in the earth seek slumber’s redemption
Awaken in the Spring as Winter’s confession


