From Keeper of the Sword

Uorugs will come and get you.
If you do not fall asleep,
They will open up your window,
Into your bedroom they will creep.
They will drag you to their dungeons.
Where you can only sit
And when you are quite fat enough
They will roast you on a spit.
They will grind your bones for butter.
Put your toes into their bread.
And when they have sucked out your eyes,
They will place lighted candles in your head.
So hush my little dumplings,
As you snuggle in your bed

From keeper of the Sword

Appendix IV: The Lost Prince Aelle
In the fastness of the forest on a bed of leafy green, a man-child weary slept. His eyes still wet from lonely weeping. His mind was filled with pleasant dreaming.
The castle stood in sunlight gleaming. Knights in shining armor jousted. Fair maidens blushed, chose their favorites. Trumpets sounded clear and joyous. A princling watched in silent, wonder as his father won the glory.
A noble Queen hugged child tightly, whispered in his ears intently. “One day you will be strong and mighty. Win great honor in joust and tourney. You will be a King quite fearless.” She smiled and kissed child gently.
He squirmed a little in displeasure. Then kissed her cheek to show he loved her.
Into his dream sadness entered. His mother died, took quick by illness. His father then from life with drawing, leaving all but his son behind him, gave Kingdom to stewards keeping. He sailed away in early morning, sails in sunlight gleaming as he passed from land and Kingdom.
Above the princling’s bower resting, feathered folk whispered of next spring’s nesting. In the night they watched and guarded. When morning came they would bring food and tend him. Then guide him safe upon his journey.
The princling wandered lost and lonely. Feathered folk had now long left him. Their nestlings needed food and tending. They had left him safely guarded.
The old man had passed in winter’s coldness. The old woman had wept at her loosing. Then she too departed from him. He placed her deep in greenwood sheltered. Then he left to look for folks of feather. The way was strange beyond his knowing.
The prince now lay in bitter hunger. His body dry, there was no water. A passing knight heard tears took pity.
Fed him from what he could gather, gave him water to still his needing. Placed princling on steed before him, walked beside, when steed grew weary.
His wife would be glad that he did bring him. Their hearts were empty because they had no younglings. He would be they son they wanted. He would grow strong from love they gave him. When they were old he would tend them, lay them to their rest with honor.

Candle in the Wind

High upon a mountain top
Gleaming through the stormy night
A small beacon dimly beckons
With a pale, flickering light

Brave words that have been spoken
Echo out across the world
A flag bearing peace, prosperity
Once again has been unfurled

Hope thought frail and faint
Once more burns deep with in
A decent, honest, audacious man
Has lit a candle in the wind

Once more we’ve been inspired
Challenged to reach out to the stars
Once again a leader has asked us
To be much better than we are

Our way is filled with sacrifice
But one day we all will stand
High upon the mountain top
And see the promised land

Perhaps our dreams are too big
Will be lost in times shifting sand
And these words will turn to dust
Yes we can, oh yes we can

City of Geodes

In the magnificent city of geodes
Small toads live there very well
They come from near and far
Looking for a place to dwell

You can never go there
But you can admire from afar
The houses that sparkle like fairy dust
Under the light of the twinkling stars

After the Midnight Bell has Tolled

Shall I surrender, give into my desire
To wander windswept streets
After the midnight bell has tolled

Riotous, wild laughter
Escapes when doors swing open
Music, voices spill outward
Lapping at the edges of my will
I am weakened by their calling

Flashes of bare ankles
Of swirling half naked bodies
Draw me in, seduce me with a promise

Without a second thought
I soon become one
With the gyrating, mindless crowd
Caught up in a time
After the midnight bell has tolled

When you Cross the River Jordan

When you cross the river Jordan
And go home, and go home
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home
Jesus will be waiting there for you
He will take you by the hand
He will lead you to Our Father
In that promised land
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

The water may be cold
But it will not chill your soul
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home, and go home
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

Tears and pain will fade away
Just like the morning dew
Jesus is waiting there for you
As you cross the river Jordan
And go home
As you cross the river Jordan
And go home

Jesus will take you by the hand
He will lead you to Our Father
In that promised land
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

A golden mansion waits for you
Upon the other shore
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

Tears and pain will fade away
Just like the morning dew
Jesus is waiting there for you
As you cross the river Jordan
And go home
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

A golden mansion waits for you
Upon the other shore
When you cross the river Jordan
And go home

The Fairy Time Ball

Fairies have come from the butter ball trees
From the mountains of cobwebs and snow
They’ve come from fields of strawberry jam
And from lands where only stars glow

The fairy folk frolic by firefly light
It’s Princess Shaylee’s birthday today
So they will dance in the moon
And in the star light
Until all time passes away

She’s turning nine on this happy day
Nine hundred, if you really must know

Her gown is of thistledown silk
As soft as a butterfly’s wings
It’s covered in tiny pink diamonds
And other sparkly bright things
There’s a crown on her head
Fairy dust in her hair
Small golden slippers
On her feet does she wear

The musician is a harpist
With a beard down to his knees
He will play what you wish
All you do is say please
A loud achoo bursts out
Every time he eats cheese

There’s plenty to feast on
And honey water to drink
No one gets drunk
If that’s what you think

They dance through the dark
Until the dawn is new born
Then they go back to their lands
In the early light of the morn
They won’t gather again
Until the first days of fall
Perhaps you can come
To the next fairy time ball

Inauguration of Humanity

Once more the fragile
Pendulum of humanity
Has swung
And a rational,
Caring mind
Has sprung forth
With words
That in all hearts
Inspire, hopes, dreams
And a new desire
To somehow
Be better than
In our small way
That we thought
We could ever be

But in this moment
Of unimaginable rapture
In this moment
That has ignited
In this dark
And most bitter hour
A spark of hope
In this moment
That has made us
Hunger in our squalor
For a sweet tomorrow
For a better world
One of caring heart
One of noble mind
We must not
We can not
Forget our long
Heroic journey
Our endless struggle
To achieve
The foothills
Of the snowy
Distant mountain top
Still hid beneath
A curtain of humanity’s
Sorrow and darkness

We rise now
Upon history’s
Cruel, unforgiving cusp
Two ways
Present them-selves
And once again
We have the right
To choose
Honour, decency, dignity
Or we can surrender
Like we have
So often done
To the bitterness
Of dark and
Desperate days
When we once looked
Upon those
Of a different color
Of a different creed
As somehow less
Than we in our
Degree of majestic
And somewhat
Ignoble splendour
Conceived ourselves
To ever be

A leader has arisen
A man of humble
But of noble roots
Has taken on
Tasks far too difficult
To ever imagine
With a promise
That together
If we but have
One heart
If we but have
One thought of mind
If for a moment
However brief in time
We at last remember
That we are of one race
Though diverse
And many coloured
That we are
Of one humanity
That began in one place
And in one distant time
We can at last
Reach out to
A destiny that
Has always beckoned
And accept
The moment
Of sweet glory
That God
In His infinite wisdom
Has set before us

I Surrender to your Love

I surrender to the love
That you have wakened
I surrender to your gentle touch
I surrender to the sweetness
Of each kiss you give me

A moment without you
Is a forever eternity
A moment with you
Is sweet ecstasy

You are my dream
And my reality
Meaning to my day

My heart beats
Because of you
My now has meaning
Because of you

There is no other way for me
But to surrender to your love

Am I the Only one

Am I the only one
That dares to name
Nameless things
Am I the only one
That dares to challenge
To reach out beyond
The far beyond
Reach out to where
Unknown forever
Unasked questions
Beg to be more
Than just questions
Waiting in the darkness
Waiting in the bottom
Waiting in the depths
Forever waiting in my mind
Am I the only one
That dares to wonder
When things of wonder
Beg to be wondered at
Am I to forever be
Waiting, hungry as
Eternity challenges
Forever thirsty
Forever wandering
In some deserted desert
Where shapes
Are no more than shadows
And flames are no more
Than dying embers
Giving no warmth
Giving no light
Am I the only one
That dares to shower
When there is no water
When there is no soap
When there is no hope
Am I the only one
That dares to dare

Am I the only one
That dares to beg
When I look down
From castle towers
With my belly full
Of wine, of bread
Full of cheese and beer
Am I the only one
That’s forever lost
When the worst sinner
In the depths of sin
Finds some kind
Of forgiveness
Some kind of salvation
I am I the only one
That dares to name
Nameless things

Darfur, Polotics of Genocide

Dust dirt fear,
Women in bright clothing,
Wring their hands,
In despair,
Another night
When savage bodies,
Come in lust,
To thrust themselves,
Into soft, yielding
Unprotected flesh,
A young girl screams
In pain,
From destruction
Of innocence,
From despair,
Her womanhood
So brutally entered,
Then comes,
The thunder
Of roaring guns,
Is it shame
That causes these marauders
To kill not only innocence
But broken, used bodies.
No police, no soldier,
Comes to their aid
Only the bright sun
Delivers them
For a brief time
From the evil of the night,
To soon the dark returns,
As does the fear
As does the death,

Music Box Dreamer

A rocking chair that had seen better days, powered by the thin legs of an old white haired lady squeaked back and forth. Back and forth, back and forth the chair went, in a sparse, stark, dingy
room.
She half slept, half dreamed and half listened to the raindrops dancing on the cracked and filthy windowpane. A solitary window, a window that was her only view to a world she had retreated from a long time ago.

She reached out with her aged worn, care worn right hand and lifted the lid on the antique music box resting on the table beside her. Two little porcelain dancers popped up as the lid was lifted. The clothes of the pair were stained by the hand of time. The small, delicate faces had little pieces chipped out of them and their once rose pink cheeks were faded into dullness.

It took all the strength of her frail, bony fingers to turn the windup key but at last it was fully wound. When it was done, the beautiful strains of the Vienna Waltz filled the small living space and seeped into every crack and crevasse. A few of the more unruly notes slipped out underneath the door and down the hall.

As she surrendered to the magic of the music, her bright sapphire eyes were filled with the large picture beside the music box.

The young man looked proud in his crisp new uniform. He had every reason to be because not only was he going to be fighting for King and country but this was his wedding day. The blushing young bride wore a dress of white silk and red slippers adorned two dainty feet. A single red rose was fastened in her sun coloured hair.

The old woman closed her eyes and let the music transport her back to another time. Back, back through the pages of many years, to a far better day. Back, far back through the mists of an ever fading memory to a different place. A place where a new love was born, burned as a bright flame for a moment of time and then died in the hell, the horror of war.

For one more sweet time she felt her Tommy boy’s strong arms around her slender body. For a sweet instant of time, she felt the heat of his body, felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt. She felt it through her wedding dress, through her brazier. She felt all of the goodness, all of the wonder pressed tight against her rising nipples.

From my short story: My Sweet Mrinida Dressed in Blue

Detective Ryan Telford turned the ignition key of his non-descript, eight year old grey Chevy to the off position and opened the driver side door. The old car gave a loud burp, coughed twice, snorted once and then as if deciding that a good rest was the order of the day ceased complaining.

Ryan placed his size twelve, scuffed black shoes onto the brown cobble stone, four car wide drive-way. He eased his lanky tough as sun dried raw hide frame off of the cracked, imitation black leather seat. Telford stood up and gave the large two story house at the end of posh Garden Circle a good twice over.

Every white brick, every piece of polished smoke grey granite, every bit of black mortar oozed wealth and privilege. He mumbled half under his breath and half out loud, “Must be six thousand square feet if it’s an inch.”

“It’s seventy-two hundred, but who’s counting.”

Telford whirled around, trying to discover the owner of the soft, warm, bedroom sounding contralto voice. His first eye sweep missed the five foot four slender body, half hidden behind a dozen rose bushes.

A low, “Over here,” was all the help he needed to hone his vision in on the red haired girl, “I’ve never thought that the size of anything mattered.” An impish grin was fixed on her freckle dusted, rather plain face.

The owner of the voice stepped out from behind well trimmed bushes loaded with large scarlet blooms. Ryan sucked in a lungful of fresh air, fresher than downtown Toronto any way and averted his eyes away from the figure. She appeared to be wearing nothing more than two small blue hankies that accented her goodies more than hiding them. He focused his peppers on her dancing jade green eyes and the provocative, full of the devil smile that made her look almost pretty.

She glided over to him and stretched out a small tanned hand attached to a slender sun browned arm. “Hi, I’m Sandy and who might you be, or is it whom might you be. Never could get those things straight. Not that it matters, or does it. Well never mind who you are, if you’re selling something just jump back into your rust bucket and mosey on out of here. If you’re here about the corpse floating in our pool, well pardner just amble that there way.” The right index finger pointed to the side of the house and as if this intrusion was nothing more than a dust mite in her eye, the girl turned her back and floated away.

Telford watched the well rounded; swivelling hips for a moment and then gave him-self a hard mental kick in the rear. “You’re more than old enough to be her father, you damn idiot. Now you best get your mind back onto the business at hand.” He tore his gaze away from the bouncing buttocks and on gangly legs ambled in the indicated direction.

Old doctor Young and a blonde haired woman, dressed in a no nonsense brown tweed business suit knelt at the edge of a large kidney shaped pool. Telford was unable to make out the object held in the woman’s hand.

Fifty feet or so to the left of the sun dappled water was a group of three men. Telford recognized all three of them. The first two were Captain Thomas Mason and detective Blayne Nash, neither one of them was on his face book’s best friend list. Or ever would be if ever bowed to Mrinda’s pleading to join that online community. The third was Mayor Phillip Price.

Searching for my Dream

In the back of a pickup truck
In the box car of a train
I hear the wheels a turning

I hear the wheals a turning
As I go searching for my dream

Bare feet on the roadway
Bare feet, running through fields of grain
Bare feet climbing tall mountains
Bare feet dancing in the rain

They tell me freedoms just around the corner
On the breath of the summer wind
In my mind I’m already going
To places where I’ve never been

New Year’s resolutions
Fade with the new born sun
I wish I had a magic wand
That would make me forever young

They tell me freedoms just around the corner
On the breath of the summer wind
In my mind I’m already going
To places where I’ve never been

New Year’s resolutions
Fade with the new born sun
I wish I had a magic wand
That would make me forever young

Sweet Moment of Desire

Your wine sweet kisses
Burn as a fire on my lips
The softness of your skin
Seduces me with its promise
I am filled with a burning desire
To know all of you
To have you surrender
Your secrets and your desires
To my needing of you
As my hands wander
Over your secret places
As my tongue brushes gently
Across the fullness of your breasts
My hunger grows
My need for fulfilment
Becomes ever stronger
I am consumed by the moment
That has overcome me
I delight in your nakedness
As we crest upon the sea of love
My heart beats faster
The last wave of our desire
Washes us onto loves timeless shore
We rest for a moment
Wrapped in each other’s ecstasy
Wrapped in each other’s arms

Reflections

When we at last
Have clawed our way
To the heights
Of our life’s desire
To the apex
To the very pinnacle
To which we
Have long aspired
We are disillusioned
For our dreams and goals
Have been hollow ones
They desert us now
In our most needy hour
Ashes and embers
Are all that now remain
Of our youthful, raging fires
All we knew
All we have ever loved
All the best of things
Have faded into the years
And have been replaced
By mounds of money
Laying useless, mouldy
Unwanted, unneeded
In some distant bank
And by creaking, shaky limbs
By empty passages of bitter time

On the Edge

We were poets
Spinners of dreams
Singers of songs
And dancers on the edge
Of all things

I thought we’d be together
Until all clocks
Ceased their ticking
But life
Had its games to play

Now memories of you
Are only faint shadows
Dancing at the fringe
Of my mind

Our words of great wisdom
That we long pondered over
Are blown away
Like soft thistle down
On the breath
Of the new morning wind

Only a few grains are left
Of the hour glass sands
Only a few tears are left
In the eyes of the damned

And as the mists fade away
Like the hours of my life
I wonder how it will all end

We were poets together
Spinners of dreams
Singers of songs
And dancers on the edge
Of all things

I thought we’d be together
Until all clocks
Ceased their ticking
But life
Had its games to play

We Keep a Leprechaun in our Basement

It’s true we keep a leprechaun
In our basement corner
We caught him at a rainbows end
But we didn’t find his gold
Until he tells us where it is
He’ll stay in the damp and cold

He coughs a little now and then
There is even an odd achoo
Poor fellow seems to have a cold
But what can we really do
Paw and maw need the gold
To see us the winter through

We need socks, shoes and rubber bands
As well as many other things
Paw says he wants some roller skates
And maw loves diamond rings
Me, I’d like a polar bear
And a kangaroo that knows how to sing

Sam, well that’s what we call him now
Shares meals with our kitten Bill
He doesn’t seem to like cat food much
But paw says in time he will
At times he is a friendly sort
I’m sorry that he is getting ill

If only he would give in
And take us to his gold
We’d give him cough syrup
To help him with his cold
Sam seems to be a stubborn one
Perhaps that’s why he is so old

It’s true we keep a leprechaun
In our basement corner
We caught him at a rainbows end
But we didn’t find his gold
Until he tells us where it is
He’ll stay in the damp and cold

Another Time, another Dream is coming

There’s a black man in the white house
Much to the white supremacists shame
That don’t care that he’s a decent man
All they do is curse his name
Blame the liberals and the democrats
And all the other socialists that elected him

Illusions, delusions, confusions, intrusions
Run rampant through the foggy pathways
Of their closed and bitter minds
As they dream about another day that’s coming

They cling to some faint hope
That someday they will be president
But they should take a rope
And hang like an apple in the wind
Because that’s the proper justice
For these kind of men and women

Dreams and schemes of grandeur
Dominate their waking hours
And they go seeking power
From the proletariats that they’ve wounded
With their bombs and guns a blazing

The political pundits and professors
Wrap them-selves in pontificating pride
For being on the side of knowing
For once in a long, long time
Which way the political wind was blowing

The contortionists in the cemetery
Have chosen mediocre graves
And wonder where the circuses have gone
The clowns in the center ring
Shed a bitter tear as they seek applause
From the saints that have come so far to see them

All the lost souls hide on the backs of white birds
And hope that heaven will receive them
The lemming and the dodo are still your best friends
As you wander through your multi coloured dreams
You stop and listen to the bearded poets
As they spout their vitriolic, bitter rhymes
And you wonder why they do not sing of freedom

As you wander through the fields of dying
You wonder if you will ever go back home
Or will you end up as so many soldiers do
Lying in the bed that was made for you
By the visionaries that have chosen war
Can you forgive their naked lies
That have brought you from the summer fields
And given you so much pain in return

You listen to the singing birds on some back porch
Somewhere in the vague shadows of your mind
And you pray that they will again come some day
Back from the lands where they are forever young
You wish that they will bring seeds
Of hope, of peace and of bright dreams
So you can plant them on the rainy days of spring

But you know in heart and mind
That the good are born to die young
And take their dreams of optimism and change
When they crawl into their graves
With the contortionists that are waiting for them

Will the clowns still cry for you
When you surrender to
The nightmares that you are now dreaming
Or will the saints wipe away bitter tears
And tell the clowns to stop crying
As they fly away on doves of peace
Will they ever find what they died for

There’s a black man in the white house
Much to the white supremacists shame
That don’t care that he’s a decent man
All they do is curse his name
Blame the liberals and the democrats
And all the other socialists that elected him

There’s a black man in the white house
Much to the white supremacists shame
That don’t care that he’s a decent man
All they do is curse his name
Blame the liberals and the democrats
And all the other socialists that elected him

The time of Desolation is upon us

There are no knights in shining armour
To chase the dragons from the sky
No noble men to sit upon a throne
All that’s ever been good and holy
Has turned to black powder smoke
And been scattered by the blowing of the wind

Candlelight can no longer pierce the darkness
Like it was always meant to do
And beckon the last weary soldier home
It doesn’t really matter anyway
Because all he’d find when he got there
Are bloody fields, filled with the dead and dying

The waking sun hides his face
Among the clouds of war
And a dark rain that burns
Is forever falling from the angry sky
Red flowers blossom on the killing grounds
As bullets and bombs fall among us

Don’t worry friend as you cower in your grave
It’s only that the time of desolation is upon us
And to our shame we have only ourselves to blame
Because we always preferred the sabre and the sword
To the man that carried an olive branch in his hand

We have honoured the soldier and his wars
Above those who would speak peaceful words
We’ve planted the seed of aggression
Among the peoples of this world
Now the harvest is ready for the taking

Blood and bones now grow
In the fields of shrivelled corn
And dead fish pollute the lily ponds
The night air is filled
With the perfume of rotting flesh
The buzzards have come for their feasting

Well the time of desolation is upon us
We’ve been well paid for our labour of greed
As you lie on your death bed dream of better days
Turn all your thoughts far away
From this time of desolation that’s upon us
Turn all your thoughts far away
From the time of desolation that’s now upon us

Notions, Potions and other Things

Notions of grandeur
Of doing great things
Emotions of fear, hate
Jealousy and desire
Potions of love
Potions of dreams
Potions of hell’s fire
Witch’s cauldrons
Brew and bubble
Trouble over flowing
Steam up the midnight hour

Maidens blush,
Surrender maidenheads
In the name of love

Notions, potions, sundries
Huddle, randomly scattered
Among other unknown things
On dusty shelves
In the back corners
Of old drugstores

Sundaes on Sundays
Chocolate ice cream melting
Drops of frosty coolness
Drip delightfully off chins
Small pink tongues
Lick sticky sweetness
Off of smudged, pudgy hands
Children’s laughter
Drowns out plaintive music
Pouring out of
Cracked, aged speakers
More nickels slide into
Rusty slots of a tinny jukebox

Notions of a kiss, emotions of lust
Overcome a preacher’s teachings
A parent’s warnings ignored
Sunday’s crisp starched dresses
Wilt in sun soaked alley ways
Pristine whiteness stained with chocolate
Stained with sticky seeds of love
Are thrust with a sense of shame
Amidst clothes waiting for Mondays wash

Notions of peace, prosperity
Emotions of hope, fulfilled dreams
Potions of trust, expectation
Witches cauldrons brew and bubble
Opulence, affluence overflowing
Steam up the midnight hour

Be-whiskered old druggists
Add cherry and nut toppings
To sticky chocolate sundaes
Melting on warm Sunday evenings

Notions, potions, sundries
Haphazardly scattered
Among other unknown things
On dusty sagging shelves
Overtop piles of mouse droppings
In dark, dismal corners
Of old drug stores

Winter of my Content

Pastel blue
Winter sky
Stained dark
By storm clouds
Piled deep

Winter’s breath
Paints frost feathers
On icy windows

The north wind
Gathers in its lair

I am ready
For the coldness
Ready for snow
Ready for the coming
Content to be
Content to wait

I do not give in
As others do
I do not run away
To where
Jasmine filled
South winds blow

I will not hide
I will not cower

The cruel north wind
Crouches as a lion
In its hiding place
Ready to devour

Long bereft of leaves
Trees hug themselves
Clench gnarled roots
Ready for the storm

I know it will be many days
Before winter will relent
Content in mind
Content in heart
I wait
And I watch
The pastel blue
Winter sky
Stained dark
By storm clouds
Piled deep

My warm breath
Falls upon
Icy windows
Frost feathers fade

North wind
Springs as an arrow
From some
Frozen bow

Birds flock
Huddle, shivering
In naked trees

I am eager to face
The brunt
Of the new born storm

It is my intent
To be one
With its mighty heart

Content in mind
Content in heart
I watch
The pastel blue
Winter sky
Stained dark
By storm clouds
Piled deep

Let us Lay Together

Let us lay together
Wrapped in each other’s arms
As the sun goes to its rest
And when the golden moon
Smiles down upon us
Let me gaze into your eyes
And see the love you feel
For your eyes are
The window to your soul
And your soul
Is filled with passion and delight
Surrender to me
Your soft red ruby lips
Give me your wine sweet kisses
Intoxicate me with the desire
That burns within you
Let us both give into
The delight of loves
Sweet raging fire
Let us lay together
Wrapped in each other’s arms
As the sun goes to its rest
And when the golden moon
Smiles down upon us
Let me gaze into your eyes
And see the love you feel

Angel with Broken Wings

The cat is in the kitchen
Licking up spilled cream
Old dog sleeping in the corner
Is having a bad dream
The house is full of anger
Both upstairs and down
A sweet young girl is weeping
She wants to go to town
She does not know how to deal
With the pain that fills her soul
She believes that no one loves her
That she can never be quite whole
No one that is this young
Should be filled with such despair
Every time she wants a hug
No one is ever there
Her mind is overflowing
Filled with dark and bitter things
So she lies with her broken heart
And her broken angel wings
The cat is in the kitchen
Licking up spilled cream
Old dog still lies sleeping
Still having his bad dream

Another Land

In another land the poppies grow
Carefully planted row after row
They bring death as white as snow
No larks sing bravely in the sky
In crimson fields our soldiers lie
Dead eyes watch the war birds fly
Freedoms torch is passed once more
Will there ever be an end to war.
Mothers weep as their sons go
To another land where poppies grow

Excerpt from my Y/A novel Keeper of the Sword

In the Beginning
Morgan Connelly’s cries for help sent icy fingers racing up fourteen-year-old Josh Cullen’s spine. They filtered through two grubby ears into his half-mad mind and pulled him back from a happy vision of home. Back to the reality of thick smoke, flames and the savage sea battle raging around him.

The image of her ghost white-face seared through his red-rimmed eyes and her screams made his stomach queasy. A crimson river flowed out of her left shoulder around the long black shaft protruding out of her dirty pink blouse. It ran down her arm and formed into a pool under her slumped body. For a minute that seemed to stretch forward into eternity, the limp figure of his best friend made Josh think that he was caught up in the middle of a nightmare.

Morgan’s sapphire eyes fluttered closed and for a long moment Josh thought she was dead. His last meal of fish and bread spurted out of his mouth, poured out his nose and mingled with the expanding red pool.

This never-ending moment of terror was too much for his young mind to comprehend and it retreated once again to the safe, secure haven of his classroom.
The events that had led him to this fateful hour of destruction flashed before his eyes. Starting with the day he discovered the ancient, leather bound volume.

Candle in the Wind

High upon a mountain top
Gleaming through the stormy night
A small beacon dimly beckons
With a pale, flickering light

Brave words that have been spoken
Echo out across the world
A flag bearing peace, prosperity
Once again has been unfurled

Once more we’ve been inspired
Challenged to reach out to the stars
Once again a leader has asked us
To be much better than we are

Our way is filled with sacrifice
But one day we all will stand
High upon the mountain top
And see the promised land

Perhaps our dreams are too big
Will be lost in times shifting sand
And these words will turn to dust
Yes we can, oh yes we can

Hope thought frail and faint
Once more burns deep with in
A decent, honest, audacious man
Has lit a candle in the wind

The Fairy Time Ball

Fairies have come from the butter ball trees
From the mountains of cobwebs and snow
They’ve come from fields of strawberry jam
From lands where only stars glow

The fairy folk frolic by firefly light
It’s Princess Shaylee’s birthday today
So they will dance in the moon
And in the star light
Until all time passes away

She’s turning nine on this happy day
Nine hundred, if you really must know

Her gown is of thistledown silk
As blue as a butterfly’s wings
It’s covered in tiny pink diamonds
And other sparkly bright things
There’s a crown on her head
Fairy dust in her hair
Small golden slippers
On her feet does she wear

The musician is a harpist
With a beard down to his knees
He will play what you wish
All you do is say please
A loud achoo bursts out
Every time he eats cheese

There’s plenty to feast on
And honey water to drink
No one gets drunk
If that’s what you think

They dance through the dark
Until the dawn is new born
Then they go back to their lands
In the early light of the morn
They won’t gather again
Until the first days of fall
Perhaps you can come
To the next fairy time ball

A Day of Tribulation is coming

The bank president lies in a pool of blood
With a bullet in his head
Because he wouldn’t give up the combination
Over on the other side of town
A mother weeps because her baby is dead
And she only has memories left in her mind
Of watching her little child growing

The bread lines go down the street
So far that you cannot see the end
The soup kitchens turn people away
Because the kettles are empty

A mad man pushes a red button
Releasing a holocaust onto the world
He smiles at the faces of the dying
A little girl sitting on her father’s knee
Can’t stop the tears of blood she’s crying

I wake up in my sweat soaked bed
The fear of my nightmare
Still walks around in my head
As I wait for the sun to awaken
And I wonder if the morning will bring
The cold day of tribulation

A man kills his wife and his little child
Then takes his own life
Because he can’t face his dreams anymore
And reality weighs to heavy on him
As his cruel life slips away
He is glad he won’t have to face
The cold day of tribulation

The day of tribulation is coming
It’s just round the corner from you
So take all the money you can from the bank
And spend it before it is worthless
The bank president lies in a pool of blood
With a bullet in his head
Because he wouldn’t give up the combination
Over on the other side of town
A mother weeps because her baby is dead
And she only has memories left in her mind
Of watching her little child growing

A Magic Winter Moment

Snow diamonds
In their millions
Shimmer, glitter
Across the sea
Of winter’s
White gold wonder

My every breath
Paints
Sky blue perfection
With puffs
Of frosty dreams

Children’s footprints
In their hundreds
Brush away
Scintillating glory
But playful laughter
Brings its own
Perfect beauty
To the new born
December morning

Wind grows crisp
Brisk gusts
Rush through
Naked branches
Nibbling for
Brief moments
At ear tips
And bare noses

No word can capture
This magic moment
I burn the images deep
Into the corridors
Of my awe filled mind

Shenandoah Dreams

A new day breaks and cannons roar
Drowning out the morning praise of birds
Flying high above the battle lines

Men, brothers in blue and grey
In silence wait the orders of the day

Bayonets fixed, muskets loaded
Eyes stare out towards their foe
Each one believes that God
Will give their side victory
On this battlefield today

Drummer boys drum in perfect time
Blue and grey march in straight lines
And never glance away
From the distant, waiting goal
As comrades fall onto the bloody ground

Cannons cover the dying screams
Of mangled men that lie
Upon this green field of death

A bugler blows retreat
But such a thing must be ignored
And victory’s high price
Must be paid in blood

A new day breaks in silence
I look out upon an old battlefield
And for another moment I retreat
Back into my Shenandoah dream