The great threat is always inside.

Quiet things lie within

Neat little knots holding down

Raw, unkempt edges simmer

Little hands pet anger like a dog

It’s growl held but not missing 

Deep recesses craved beneath 

Smooth surfaces are deceiving

We are always surprised by silence

Calculating torrents wait patiently 

Undercutting control, overwhelming

It’s passing unseen, its trail wide

Beware what lies in Silence



photo by Rebecca Johnston – here’s a bigger version
He went to sleep with image of the deer and a dream sack from the Dinè spirit shop.  He was told be the deer,think the deer, and find the deer.

When he awake he was the deer and it was the first day of hunting season.
Written as part of a challenge called The line tales, details are available at 


The crumbled edges have long lost their golden guiding.  Distressed is the single prominent feature left.  Years and seasons have ever taken a horrible toll.  Empty spaces fill what once were windows brightly lite from within.  Once a grand, majestic lady has passed to an overlooked blighted mess.

In the breeze, tatters of long forgot cloth flap.  Either indicating life was once there, or it could hide what was there once from the present. Morning dawns last in a darkened alley.  It draws her to her feet.   The sunlight shines dimly on her facade of a life left.

<au href=””>Facade</a&gt;

Photo  Challenge #132- Spectre

My lovely shadow.   I stare across the field.   The clothes line is where she is sexist.   A stolen look at her.   A silhouette of the body my dreams occupy. Lost in a hidden moment, miles from anywhere.  I can taste her breath.   Feel the stands of hair.

I struggle to sit upright.   My daydream lost.  Pieces of sand passed through an hour glass.   She is spectre.  Haunting me still.


I’m sinking in your quagmire

Pretending it means something

Pretense that it mattered

I falter in the act of hope

An act of solo solidarity 


Solid ground gives after belief dies

Pillars of marble splinter to fill

When the glass has been taken

The Winoow is called a hole in the wall

My foundation was built on pixie dust 

Dreams live only where hope and belief dance

The record player is quiet

The band has the day off

I strive to build a bridge

You’ve burnt away the forest

An empty field is what  we share

The grass has been pastured

Stubble and rain of tears is left

The fragility of life is a measure

What we need and want

And what we do to keep it

The pixie dust has consumed me

Your quagmire turned quicksand


Photo credit: Bluffton University

I’m undone

Rather unfinished

There’s things to work on

Working out ideas and flaws

Or is it character and traits?

Hard to tell from the inside

I build and rebuild, then paint

Is this the way it should appear? 

Have I exaggerated too much? 

I peer out to see the rest of you

Not how I want to be…

I need different but similar

My chisel makes lasting sweeps

My hammer rudely guides it

I want subtle but destiny isn’t 

From my  changing perspective 

I recreate the image to fit

But always remains unfinished 

<a href="">Unfinished</a>


The mirror focuses on you. 

Little eyes dart, searching

Mine find yours

What secrets held hostage?

What thoughts lie within?

I see an expression 

Close to what I hope to see

But do you notice mine 

Are my thoughts showing?

Do you see me in my mirror? 

I build a story about you

The shape of your face

I hold details like gold coin

The light changes and we part

Do I see you again next light? 

Wordle #122 – Spirits

Wordle #122 “September 26th, 2016”


1. Shibboleth (Noun. A peculiarity ofpronunciation, behavior, mode of dress, etc.,that distinguishes a particular class or set ofpersons. A slogan; catchword. A common sayingor belief with little current meaning or truth.)

2. Petal

3. Rescind

4. Density

5. Void

6. Stagger

7. Hinge

8. Spirit

9. Gloam (Noun. Twilight)

10. Kyrkogrim (refer to the Wikipedia page

11. Black

12. Tweed

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem

The words can appear in an alternate form

Use the words in any order that you like.

Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle

The closing gloom releases the spirit.  The black form rescinds to its corner stone.  The void created by its entry removes the density of the air.  Petals free fall, unhinged from the days flowers.  

A man in tweed waits for the Kyrkogrim.  His manner of staggering about, speaks to him as a shibboleth.  He is not of this world either. 


Bits and pieces 

Crumbs, pretty colors, symbols 

Thrust together with into images

Mystifying blurs twist and turn

Mirrors feed back broken forms

Reality holds shape and flexes 

My mind chooses which is true

Then it turns again and again

This reality is better now

Realm, a kingdom of sorts

Until I wish it gone away

A turn and a new start.

Colors flash by my eyes

I could stay in this one awhile