A Short Story of the Apocolypse

Popalotl is a mason of the highest order. No-one in the Mayan world can carve stone like he can.

He takes pride in his work and the High Priest of the Temple of the Sun knows where to go when he needs five great calendars for the new Temple of the Sun.

Popalotl knows his work will receive acclaim for eternity. Taking a break at the end of a long week Popalotl ...

To read the story of how the Mayan Calendar comes to show the end of the world in December 2012, CLICK HERE

Memories of Hope

A rose red sky,
Here you lie.
No slumbering dreams
Your beauty seems
Fading now,
Your silken hair,
Takes my tear.

Cold are your eyes
As you gaze to the skies.
Faded now
The dream somehow
Where did you go?
Where I can not follow.
Once we walked the hill
Where I sit still.
Gazing o'er the distant shore.

Then under the rosen sky,
May I one day lie.
Feel the breeze
Beneath those trees.
Feel you near
Against my side.
And watch again the flowing tide.

To Melville

Where sailors smell land,
With harpoon in hand.
By Ahab's side
We ride the tide,
With Quaker hand
Nowhere to stand.
The flukes arise.
The towering tail
Smahes upon our whale.

Eide on the spray
O! Spouting foam
Smell the oil
As we strain and toil.
Down they go,
No hope of spoil.

To all but one,
The Grat White beast
Calls on to feast.
One alone safe from Pequod's grave.
One alone to tell Melville's tale.
One alone of the Great White Whale.

A Christmas Poem

An enduring memory of my childhood Christmas's is the desire to stay awake in order to see Santa Claus (Father Christmas) bring me my hoped for presents.

I would listen eagerly for the sound of hooves as the reindeer clattered upon the roof. Think I could hear the sound of shuffling down the chimney and always without fail I would be asleep by midnight.

Waking on Christmas morning, an old grey navy kit bag, laying across my bed, often filled with bright and shiny packages.

This poem is my tribute to those treasured Christmas's.


To read Christmas Eve CLICK HERE!

I Don't Have to Defend Myself

Breaking up is often hard.
We often say things that we regret later. If a relationship ends in a long series of fights. Excuses and antagonism often fuels the fight.
We grow defensive, and as words flow, so do the excuses.

This is the source of the poem I Don't Have to Defend Myself.

Read the poem CLICK HERE.