Can’t quite call it puzzling

if I already know the answer.

Still, the how keeps me up some nights

and the why perplexes me.

It all falls into place

as I watch bewildered.

It all connects

as I wildly wonder

about the chaos.

I can’t piece the peace together

or place the picture properly.

Can’t quite call it puzzling

when the finished work

is there.

But could it be complete?

Like a corner piece

with four connecting sections–

joy amid the turmoil.



These cell phones and computers

will age and fade

into obscurity–

funny how they were never the problem

some have made them out to be.

It’s these hands, operated by

a nervous nervous system,

that hesitate.

That’s where the problem lies.

What I want to say

and how it comes across

are often misunderstood,

taken the wrong way.

I hesitate to fully write

what I mean,

unfortunately content to let vague

platitudes plague others.

I hesitate to hit buttons that say


as if they were the red button.

Even reading this now

causes me hesitation

because it will never feel right to me

to write poems with computer terms.

I wonder if they felt that way

when painting caves and rocks,

scratching ink on papyrus

or moving the typeface of the printing press?

They didn’t write a stream of consciousness

like this when they did;

they couldn’t afford to waste

the paint and ink.

Am I wasting it now? It sure feels that way.

Perhaps they hesitated talking

to others, though.

Funny how universal that is.

Funny how there are numerous ways

to hesitate saying

what you want to say,

what you need to say.

It’s funny to me

how I’m nervously laughing

as my thumb hits these small keys

in this rambling mess.

I hesitate to find words

to finish it–

who knows if they’ll be the only words

someone reads from me

that paints an out-of-context picture?

Who knows if the urge to write

should leave

and make them my last?







Last time I wrote a stream of consciousness like this, it was misconstrued. Thankfully it wasn’t misconstrued too bad but I still find myself hesitating to post stuff. In all fairness, that has always been ingrained in my mind. I think I’ll keep writing until I perfect how to craft words and sentences. In other words, I’ll keep practicing until I shuffle off this mortal coil 🙂


Looking at the Clouds of Rain

The clouds on the horizon look

like snow capped mountains,

something I haven’t seen

in a decade or so.

Their shape is implanted

in my brain.

These clouds are real

but they are not mountains.

The mountains seldom change.

Right? Right?

Perhaps I’ll see them again

one day

if the clouds don’t drown me first–

I know they’re still there.

Poetry · Stuff

Filling in the Blanks

You will never work

a day in your life

if you enjoy what you do

and I find I don’t work too much

these days;

instead, through highs and lows,

it gets better

and this little hobby

fills in some

missing blanks






This little notification showed up earlier today. I don’t keep track but it also hasn’t felt like four years.

So thank you all for being you and thank you for putting up with me 😃 Can’t wait to keep reading your wonderful works.

God bless!



The Ailment and the Remedy

I always thought that it would be easy

to run out of words

to convey a single theme,

a single idea,

a single person from

the endless crowds.

I thought it would be easy

and I thought that I’d forget you.

I thought a lot

but it was nothing at all

while the subjects spoke freely

without my help.

I thought it would be easy to stop

yet I can’t seem to separate

the pen from the paper

even when–or even especially when–

I want to.

Good or bad, come what may . . .

I write


Where They’ve Been

I knew that I loved you–

no question of when . . .

like when you were dancing

with words through your pen,

when the paper lit up

like flames with no fire,

when the smokeless smoke rose

yet even higher,

when the clouds formed above

through smoke and through haze,

when the words came back down

completely unfazed,

when I saw them dancing

back home once again,

and you looked happy

when beaming your grin . . .

I knew that I loved you–

no question of when–

even though they’re just words

you know where they’ve been






I’m posting this here because both were inspired by the same song. I usually write specific inspirations in the tags but if I’ll give non-existent points fo you if you can guess it.

Hint 1: it’s an older song.

Hint 2: it destroyed a few pianos on the Looney Tunes 😄