“Home! That was what they meant, those caressing appeals, Those soft touches wafted through the air, those invisible little hands pulling and tugging, all one way.” – Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

Ascent Into Mercy

New Image
Abandoned but not alone
Beaten, but past the point of no return is the sea
Finding the way to the sea
Torrid, filthy, terrifying, exhilarating
The Greek chorus telling the tale
Not thriving but surviving
This whole night’s been bad and you’re just a part of it
Such fearsome want
Despite themselves
Spinning thoughts hurled out in epithets
Spray painted by a revolutionary
Proclaiming gibberish
Too cool to translate
When even they don’t recall the meaning
They’re so far down; they’re not even on the map
Drawn together inexorably
Follies of boys
Fighting for ten square feet of ground
It’s still on
Who wants to hide
The future is ours
What about me, baby
Pushing on numbly
I’m having a good time, let’s go
You never know what you’re gonna run into out there

Story Published


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I wish to heartily thank my supporters and friends and followers! I have had words stuck in my head all my life and it’s taken me to my middle age to write them down.

I’m working on a book of poetry to hopefully be published this year; up to six months ago, I would laughed at that idea.

I am particularly proud of the connections I’ve made with other writers. We should revel and share in our journeys and support each other as we have chosen similar modes of expression.

“We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful pour out.” – Ray Bradbury


“I never before knew the full value of trees. Under them I breakfast, dine, write, read, and receive my company.”

– Thomas Jefferson