The Encouragement of Light


When waves filled with light, wash upon our shores, our spirits are lifted,

and we can embrace the acceptance, that has always – held us.

Even our eyes will sparkle with the love we have

been given, a love that makes us,

so wonderfully human.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

By the Sea


She was surprised to find herself on this path again. The two of them would come here often. And he would hold her as they breathed in the sea, encouraged by the smell of the pine trees. They were always stronger here.

“You left me too soon…”, she whispered. She could sense him though……as if he were standing right next to her….. Was he smiling? She wasn’t sure. She did manage a small grin, as she wrapped herself with her own arms, buffeted by the wind. But she knew she was stronger for coming here. And she vowed to always remember the warmth of the sun, and his embrace.


  Writing and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

Preferred Company


Most of the ones beaten down, do not look for the company of another king,

preferring instead a tall glass of beer, with a trusted

friend, some soft jazz playing,

and perhaps on a good day

reading a story of

the courageous


the sea.


It has always been that way.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies



It’s true that the legends of ghosts don’t speak to us anymore,

and saints speak too softly to be heard, while sinners

yell their own condemnation, but to be honest

My Love, I need your whispers more,

than anything else in this world.

Nose to nose, foreheads



Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Sun Reflecting on Your Face


Looking at you through the lens has captured me once again, My Love

the engines roaring behind us, turn to the left – just a little,

there – I see your eyes searching the horizon

and the wonderful cheek I have kissed

so often, as the sun reflects

on your face confirming,

you came from

heaven, anointed

by the ocean.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies

The Poem is in the Healing


Some say the ripping open makes a writer

the raw tearing and scars, but I prefer the gentle

movement of the leaves, the touch of a soft rain

on my face, and a turtle breaking

the smooth surface

of a pond.

A place of silence,

and the hearing of

my own breathing.


The poem is in the healing.


  Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, Ancient Skies