Winter weekend, drawing in the winds,
Two poets in revels of word and image,
Late nights, morning walks by sea spin,
All too soon, left with moving sketches.

Newly painted house,
Clouded windows between us,
  .  .  .  Flowers in glass vase.

Thomas was an honest man
Upon us in dishonest lands

And he would stand
Atop his fondest stances

And speak his mind at every chance

But Thomas
Wasn't always an honest man

He follyed as an honored father
That with his bothered hands

killed his daughters man

But if anyone can do it

Thomas can

my heart got sick the day I left

my heart got sick right before the plane took off

lamppost, firefly, sunlight

but I’m shy

I love you but silence is still mine

real life is sad

you lose sometimes

if you ever hear me cry, please don’t make fun

it’s just,

my heart will love you whenever I’m happy

the sun comes up and the sun goes down

but I’m all over the place with smiling and shutting people out

I think

I can miss you and not need you at the same time

but I will never tell you I love you

because silence is still mine

The spikes, fingers touch,
Fallen hair, eyes surrendered,
She laid her arms down.

In the presence of the enemy
He split his force in two.
His red coated invaders
displayed contempt for the Zulu.
How else to explain their failure
to fortify the camp?
Twenty Thousand warriors
Put them in a deadly clamp.
It was a fearsome slaughter
redcoats falling by the score.
Thirteen hundred swept away-
No prisoners of war.
assegai thrusting spears struck home
The Sun would shine no more.
The Thin Red Line was broken,
each man fighting his own war.
With ammunition running out
They fought with blade and ****.
Until knobkierrie clubs struck home
And stabbing spears found gut.
The officers with horses,
without honor, fled the fray.
Escaping only with their lives
No storied heroes they.