Past / Our skin / And every / Bone, vein and cell – / A universe blooms. / Deeper and deeper in / Becomes closer and closer, / And farther and f…
An Etheree form, poem. this is about exactly what it says: what we, as humans being, are made of. Stars. As above, so below. Truth.
The very hand that grasped the brushes and mixed the colors to paint this small portrait of the vast Cosmos is the very same hand that wa…
AFTER READING MY TEXT VISIT MY ART AND SEE THE OIL PAINTING WHICH INSPIRED THESE WORDS
It seems the winds are still at last. / And now, I must accept the still. / Indulge in bells from inward stop. Greet it as relations who…
A poem about STOP. moment. still. quieting. truth. and the peace and freedom that comes with the art of STOP.
There is no room on this star / for violets. The scent of limitless roses in blossom / chokes / my small hands; / un-hears / my small voic…
A poem about feeling very small against the backdrop of enormity.
They say I made the moon, everything was dark. / No memories at all, just a tiny freezing wind on my back. / As I was sitting there singing…
This is not mine It is a glorious tribute to the Hubble Space Telescope with music by the band M83. Please click this link to YouTube to fully appreciate this.
Questioning science, God and many other aspects of life.
He surveys the wake of disappointment, / Lingers in the shadow of pain, / And saunters in the footsteps of despair. / To him belongs eternity.
Inspired by Hamlet’s calculated insanity.
*Crescent shaped whispers / Drifting back to hallowed ground / Surround the sacred symbols / Transfusing from the collective unconscious / Me…
WHEN BOBBY TURNED sixteen, his mom took him to a psychiatrist. He was a restless young man, growing between divorced parents and his gran…
A true story from the early youth of a future sci-fi writer and space artist. How an unnecessary visitation to a psychiatrist’s office can changed one’s life, when destiny is at the wheel ;-)
In the year prior to his death, Sara’s grandfather built a mountain. The neighbours – watching speculatively as he hauled the rubblecart …
Here I am now / And in a minute I will be here / But not really here / It will be there / There is like here / But a minute that way
Control nothing and remain free in the return of giving is. Death becomes laughter when you do. / Laughter, like silence comes …
A POEM FOR PEACE OF MIND.
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