top of page

More of My Poetry


The Mystic

Under the azure canopy I sit, bewildered and torn,

Staring with sightless eyes at clouds that drift from eve to morn.

The tragedy of a life spent chasing dreams of fluff,

Was writ large on every spike and trough...

A Teardrop

It glistened pure and bright
Like a glittering diamond caught in the light
It clung to the eye with tenacious might...



The pearlpink clouds
cling to the azure sky
Like a baby
To her Ma's lap...

bottom of page