In the Morning Fog


He picks up his pen a little slower now,

recognizing the brokenness

contains a poem

not so jagged,

and that his light

is easily defused

in the morning fog.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies


The Hope of Spring


In the springtime we are redeemed, aren’t we? Within the warm air

a flower teaches us rebirth, and a light rain

washes us, lifting our spirits

hopeful, we look forward

to the earth infusing

our poetry,

and art.


Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies



Our poems will wait to speak to us, as we hide ourselves away

confident, in luxury condominiums setting up our safety.

But in our living through the storm,

up on the ridge, with our breath taking us

into the wildness of words, where mustangs

fill our minds, and pine trees

are tossed by the wind,

with blizzards that shake loose

our hesitation

blowing through

the fragments

of our hearts,

we become confident

of our survival,

in a place where

our pens run free

and the poetry paints

the wildness

of our spirits.


I will be posting here once in a while. Thank you for reading!

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies