Tag Archives: Death

The Fall


When Fall passes by

It brushes some trees on top

Some the bottom

Some the side.

Wherever a leaf has been touched

It quickly spreads.

The torch of Fall

Kindles all.

They go graceful, as nature wills

They go with fire, one last glory

Immolating the world.

There is beauty in destruction

And the trees glow with it.

Filtering sunfire

Into their own shade

Coloring the sidewalks



Baby green


With a farewell kiss

So light

Too soft for all senses

But sight.













The Great Plan


I sat with God and begged him tell me why

The children he professed to love can die.

He said, “your human mind is limited in scope.

You’ll have to take it all on faith and hope.”

I asked him why he gave us little brains

Just strong enough to ask but not contain

The answers to the questions we would seek.

He said, “I’ll get back to you next week.”

I asked him why he we had so little choice.

I asked him why we couldn’t hear his voice.

I asked him why the pumpernickel rye

In my cupboard had to go all dry.

I asked him how, in his omnipotence,

He couldn’t get his people to make sense.

I asked him why the world was such a mess.

He said, “you’ve given me much to address.

I’ll fix it right away. Or in ten years.

Or maybe not at all. Why all the tears?

I am a loving God. I’ve so much love

I crucified my son. He’s dead but fine.

Isn’t it great? You are my children too.

Now I don’t have to do the same to you.

Once you had to smear blood on the door

But you don’t have to kill goats anymore.”

“My God, you wrote these rules,” I said in shock.

“Is blood the only thing you hold in stock?”

But God was getting bored. He waved a hand

And sent me off to join his choir band.


Years of faith and guilt were worth all this.

The streets are paved with gold. A miser’s bliss.

All day we sing our carols to His grace.

It might sound boring, singing in this place.

But praising in His name we are content.

Our wills are His, and He wants compliments.











Imagining Losing You


To lose you


You are half of me.

You are always there.

When I need a laugh,

When I need a cry.

You know me best

You read my heart

You see my soul.

To lose you

Is to lose myself.

A vital organ

Roughly excised

By uncaring reality.

I have confidence in my ability to face anything

Only because you support me.

Nothing scares me


The prospect of life without you

Makes me dizzy with fear.












Roach Sonnet


This stemmed from a conversation me and my friends had in a group text.

I am blessed to have the most interesting and creative friends, and our conversations are always something else.

Cowdog Creatives (Hannah) took this picture and sent it to our text group, saying how dramatically it died in the last ray of sunlight.



Another friend said it looked like an Italian opera singer, declaring in song his long-unspoken love to the fair Limoncello with his final breath.

I can’t write opera, but I can write melodramatic sonnets, so I had to join in poking fun at this roach’s dramatic death.

It’s OK to cry.



Fair Lemoncello, golden wings and thighs

No weeping from those scintillating eyes.

I am content that you have heard me speak;

No grief should mar the shine upon that cheek.


What warmth is this that causes my love worry?

A ray of sunlight, yet I cannot scurry.

It lays bare all my tender love for thee.

There is no fear where Lemoncello be.


There’s nothing more to say. My soul is clear.

I cannot stay, my insect queen, to hear

Thy chirped response; angelic though you be

A darker angel draws now near to me.


I do not mind death’s amply lit approach.

Today this nymph developed into roach.













That feather touch


That feather touch

You are so light

So gentle with me

Do you think I will break?

I pour your coffee

You laugh at my joke

Why can’t we be forever.

I want this to be forever.

But you’re slipping through my fingers

You sublimate

And before I can understand why

You’re nothing but ether

A soft golden glow of remembrance.

A ray of sun lighting up the dust motes

Alighting on your picture.

And although it’s been weeks

Since you were here

Your touch lingers on my hair.


I’m not ready

It’s not true

Your picture is here

But it’s not you













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