beneath our tree

where my lungs come back to me

for it is there

among borrowed ears

the cadence of you,

of i

falls freely

beneath blooming arms, those towering magic wands

those leaves, an artistic blend of hues

lent by the color of our words

birthed from our woes, our joys

now drip dropping in tiny doses

a repertoire of moments

gifts caressed from our swollen lips

beneath this our found sanctum

a secret place, a perfect hiding spot

where treasured scribing

and whispers in the wind

hold a love affair in soft reverie

infused within the veins of its hollow

beyond distances they traveled

weathered testaments of time

reaching for the sun

how they glow

how it flows



reflecting within

beneath our tree

where my lungs come back to me

Listen to me read Sanctum 

queen of the shades

queen of the shades

minnows wading beneath

the dance of the trees

lending a choir to the air as earthen creatures stir

but to catch a glimpse of she

their maiden of the shade, their spring breathing persephone

a narcissus sips from a nymph filled river bed

unable to resist the breath of its perfume,

she bows as its smile upon her spread

one selfish delight, she thought, to adorn her hair

reaching for its heavenly invitation, clutching its core,

but the earth it trembled, a prelude to a darkening lair

a stallion then arose, with rider crowned in shade

his moon-fed eyes reaching for her own

spilling of promise to immortal blooms

of a forest braided, never to fade

longing for the wonder, unafraid of what the gods would cast down

she took his hand, this god of the underworld

and became his queen, in shaded crown

in their descent, winter took hold

til this maiden, now queen of the shades returned in season anew

giving her breath to the forest turning it back to its gold

Emancipator/Natural Cause

-just breathe-

Listen to me read Queen of the Shades

Alone: Edgar Allan Poe -a spoken word poem

Alone: Edgar Allan Poe -a spoken word poem

After starting my YouTube channel where I have begun reciting my poetry, I found it disheartening to discover not many videos exist of women reciting a favorite, Edgar Allan Poe. So I thought I’d like to give it a try. I have read him since I was thirteen years old but never have I dared to read him publicly. Alone is a piece that I personally connected with upon the first time I read it and I hope you enjoy.



she didn’t take dance class

or scream for the latest teen beat

she collected greenpeace posters

made shorts from her ripped blue jeans

her books were her friends

oh the places she would go

to paris in springtime

to morocco in the fall

her birkenstocks thought funny

to girls of her own age

her collection of wolves

kept most of them at bay

she often thought weird

an old soul from the rest

didn’t have pom pom’s

or own a short dress

she’d talk often to the trees

tell them her daily woes

for they seemed to understand

what nobody else cared to know

with youthsome days now passed

her lonely nights haven’t much changed

for those trees are still her friends

her shorts just a little more frayed

image by Melissa Askew
Lord Heron – Ends of The Earth

Featured image by Joshua Fuller on Unsplash

let us slumber

let us slumber

let us slumber in the moonlight of our mind

where feathers drift with honeyed dreams in the quiver of breath before a dawn

then sail upon what it is we may find

let us slumber in the brewing of loons

beneath camomile leaves and northern winds crawling

let us make our own cocoon

let us slumber in twilight’s cloak

in essence of birds in flight

ne’er weary of our path

straddling the sway of our yoke

let us slumber in crescent moon

where love bathes softly

breathing swiftly more

in a summer heat where we forever swoon

Castaway – Evocative



i didn’t find you

for it is you that found me

when i hadn’t the words

you hummed a most healing soliloquy

i ran with famine legs to this thing that gave chase

rummaging through weeds to hear your voice, to find your face

to translate this song that longed for a knowing embrace

perhaps it was mere chance but it’s true

in a choir of insects

between the claps of the shade

you shewn the both, those delicate doses of you

as moss upon the roots of the quietest tree

climbing my veins, stowing wisteria as wild as the sea

you sung seemingly a song only sung to me

through parted clouds a most grand marquee

you painted the dawn,

you lassoed the moon

as i ran to your deep

weeping and upon bent knee

in repeated refrain

just as the bottom seemed to fall

the sun did reach and grab hold of my withering wane

with shuttered breath, you swallowed my clouds

taking my storm in unrelenting press

extending your hand,

its softness once again finding me

in its long ago sweet undress

Kansas – Dust In The Wind

a letter from eros

a letter from eros

love is unconditionally true,

as newborn eyes looking back at you

love is quiet, on a rainy day

when holding hands seems to braid colors
into the gray

love is patient, when voice is lost

strength in understanding at every cost

love is a fighter when battles concede

finding equal footing, a tug of war freed

love is clarity when sight is gone

a caress in the dark, curtains drawn

love is loud when tears ignite

a warrior in battle prepared to fight

love is years of day to day

yet living in that first hello
when your lover looks your way

love is simple yet so completely complicated too

as intricate as pieces of a puzzle,

as delicate as the morning dew

love is ageless, knows not of any bounds

worth growing old with

worth walking in the rain to

worth bravely speaking aloud

if love happens to kneel upon your door

greet it gently, sip it slow

for it knows already the way to your core

it need not bound you

no desire to proclaim

you’ll know when it finds you

no matter brief, no matter the refrain

for love is unconditionally true

beyond any scars, eyes that’ll find yours

to see that true you