between the cracks


street signs reflecting
ask questions between
life lives in moments
of eye sight and dreams

pause for a passing
light guides the way
there for the taking
love comes our way

not knowing the reason
what destiny seems
to answer our questions
through cracks in between

the days of our lives
are filling the air
with measures of truth
in smiles we will share


moon shadows

Winter Moon Shadows

the clinging of winter asks a question
in what language does it speak
where are the ears to hear the voice
the rhyme and the reason
colors faded into ice blue
long nights spent in moon shadows
circling the sun and waiting
for the dawn to come
waiting for the answers hidden
frozen in time
across a star speckled sky
feel the warmth in creation
the out breathing of life
the heat of the heart within
looks back into time
searching the enigma for eternity


When we dance


As a tribute to Meryl and Charlie heading into this weeks competition in Sochi …

Originally posted on grandfathersky:

when we dance
stars revealing
crystal skies
in midnight blue

holding you
arms enfolding
paints a story
in the mind

circles turning
round about
dizzy dreaming
speaks the truth

love was meant
to be for us
always waiting
for the time

music takes us
to forever
moments memories
lost in form

in my soul
our story lingers
colored now
and evermore


It is hard for me to imagine a more beautiful couple than Meryl Davis and Charlie White, whose performances embody the feeling of this poem…

View original

The Cellist of Sarajevo

Clamoring, broken bits of the ages
Cities laid down, crumbled broken bricks
Of life gone mad and fraught with fear
and others strange retiring

What would peace ever mean
if music fell to notes unheard
Would love bring back the reasoning
Undo the rage of broken hearts

Once the light of love took up
A city’s chance to ask us all
If echoes of an ancient song
would pose the question left unsaid

Through ruined streets for days on end
One soul inquired, time again
and from the silence in the hills
in echoes came the answer

Love returning with the Dove
when given voice in empty streets
ears will know the music of
the spheres as one the heart reveals

Whether legend or true – The Cellist of Sarajevo – who sat in the streets of a city for days on end, being shelled from the hills, and never being shot at or disturbed in his performances, is a testament to the human condition where opposition takes a back seat to the knowledge that music points the way to the soul and the Spirit that unites us all through the Heart of Love. I felt on this Valentines Day, considering that Sarajevo was a site of the Winter Olympics before it was laid low by war, we should recognize that regardless of our differences, one person, one soul incarnate, can show to us, that we all came from the same place, and we are all going to the same place, regardless of the definitions we attach to it. Through music we have a universal language of Love ….

heart beats

P1030103 (2)

a heart has beats to measure
within the hours passing
dreams are left behind at dawn
the lessons still the blessing

eyes behold the soul of life
the feelings words won’t say
their hollow sound is broken down
into the roles we play

within the life to yield into
the storm that seems unending
learn the way the willow knows
where by the wind is bending

suns will rise and days will burn
by nights we will remember
without the sword or shields defense
the heart learns to surrender

Photo by gfs

The Highwayman


Redux for a friend -

Dedicated to David D. Volturno who left this world doing what he loved on Jan 31, 2014 …

The Highwayman

He liked the smell of gasoline
burning oil mixed with the wind
following the open road
into horizons lost to him

Always there’s another road
that leads into a setting sun
offering its own reminders
of where the riders day has gone

Again the darkness grips the day
he’s rolling on into the night
this undaunted rider lingers
seeking purpose, lost in flight

Running from a haunted past
one that chose him, not the same
as what he would have wanted there
just a rook within the game

Shadows in the headlight dance
as if some spirit follows whole
a gilded knight dressed for battle
come to save the heart he stole

He’d been cut in many fights
and he had fallen hard and fast
felt wind that ripped at every stitch
with hands made hard by winters blast

Never mind for what he wanted -
was there ever hope to find?
No answers to the reasons why
his leaving here felt so unkind

This highwayman is bound for home
free from where these roads will bend
his distant echoes hold onto hearts
where in the light they’ll meet again

Image: Courtesy of his family

The River of Light

Orion Nebula

far beyond where dreams become
our sacred journey in the night
past a star swept Milky Way
thought flows within a stream of light

and in its course there comes to be
all that ever was or willed
now finds its essence here in form
desire clothed in thought fulfilled

has come to bear the witness of
life eternal in the mind
reflecting in this light of love
the truth forever came to find

within the heart we live again
and shall abiding always know
the light within the river bends
into each lifetime’s afterglow




There is a voice I thought I heard
Sometime words were whispered
To my ears through whirling wind
Left me standing still inspired

By the way and means revealed
In monuments and sacred texts
Untold their secret symbols held
My essence to be vexed

Unraveling the forms they took
As shadows spread before the light
And meaning into consciousness
When Spirit calls us from the night

To Earth our home beneath the sky
A wonder painted black and blue
With stars that shine eternally
Reflections of the lives they knew


New Year’s Evolution

snow on evergreeens

snow caresses evergreens
with filtered sunlight fading
the shadows of an old year set
with songs of auld lang syne

memories in cups of tea
silent dreams still savored
drinking in the autumn leaves
the fire of their colors

too soon becomes tomorrow
a New Year wish to have
and hold before a new dawn breaks
we’ll reminisce again

with wonder for the still to come
and all to be created
awaits our entrance through the gate
as time bends by the will


time before the storm


what is this time we choose to follow
mark and measure and make use
traveling to be upon it
and running late from its abuse

what synchronistic feelings
we miss because attention
is far away and not aligned
with all of time’s intention

mixed dimensions still to see
tones within the sound of rhyme
time is not without its space
nor is space within its time

what all in essence came to be
or ever willing shall become
has lived within a night of dreams
as daylight merges into one