soul mirror

he gazed at his reflection
    the visage of death
      hanging over
  his image

    empty of worth
depression so heavy
   his body ached with the weight

desire to reach out
  to touch another
and be touched in return
    dominated his existence

he touched up each crevice
     with makeup
  and gold
but nothing could hide
   the scars of abuse

the damage
     ugly scars
  no hiding the filth
    or shame

but to walk away
    or even just turn
would remove from vision
     the one friend
   that remained true

and the man in the mirror



when you know only pieces
    and scattered at that
of a time when things didn’t go so right

and then later in life
    when your guard isn’t up
another piece falls into the light

and those horrible thoughts
    from your imagination
don’t even come close to what’s real

you have to sit back
    and wonder a bit
was it worth all the effort to feel

one year and 5 months

so, here i sit once again, staring at a blank post page.
haven’t been here since December of ’18.
still trying to pull my life together again.  at least enough to post.  to let it out.
my fingers sit poised over the keys, ready and willing
if my mind would give them something to say.

haven’t sat at the piano – seems like forever
just no … i don’t know what the word is.  drive?  reason?  desire?

desire – that’s it.  just no desire to play.
what was once the driving force in my life.  the one thing that brought me joy, peace …
and now – – –


at least i’m blogging again …



I wish the very best of holidays to all my friends and readers.  You give me encouragement – you help me find reason to keep exploring, keep moving forward — there are no words that adequately express my thanks.


just in time for Christmas

“Michael’s Row” has passed it’s last hurdle.  It will appear at Barnes & Noble and on Amazon within the next two weeks.  I’ll post a note when it’s there – but you can start getting your pocketbook/wallet ready, lol.

Actually an “up” time.  Christmas is looking festive for a change!

fresh inspiration

one.jpg her eyes scanned the horizon
   hope against hope
he had promised to return
     if indeed he returned
   by the seventh of the month
two days hence now
  but still she watched
though the winds chilled
  and skies turned grey
     at the turn of the season
she watched
  wishing memories of him
    could be washed away
      as easily as the sand
          from her toes

summer ends

and soon i’ll be 63.  63.  can’t comprehend it.  until i stand, or sit, lie down, get up … then my body all too well can comprehend my age.  scream my age.

on the “up” side of life – my novel just went into cover design.  release in maybe four to six weeks?

busy, busy, busy

summer should be a time of fun and relaxation.
summer is when everyone at works takes their vacations, causing those of us who remain to work twice (thrice?) as hard for no extra compensation.  yes, i have vacation time available, and yes, i get to take it.  doesn’t help the rest of the time when i’m here.

depression runs rampant this time of year.  i don’t like the heat – i don’t like the humidity.  i will be happy when the temperature starts dropping.

on the “brighter side of life” – my book has made it thru editing and is now in page layout.  things do move forward.

right now, i’m holding on for the seventeenth of September – for my “vacation” (read time at home doing chores)