Alpine Paradox

The closer you are, the cooler the air,

the higher you climb, the bolder the glare.

Frostier feelings take over: I swear

I can't figure out how this could come

about. 'Cause when all is said and done,

the closer I get, the colder the sun.

Nostalgic Ashes

Nostalgic ashes in the fireplace

are all that remain of winter's embrace.

Gray bare branches, freezing winds, snowflakes race

from memory, leaving not a single trace.

The Muse

While the muse cavorts with others, our eyes sometimes meet. She will give me a polite, rather dry smile, and then turn back to her banter with the prettier talent. But I know a flirt when I see one. She knows she can't fool me.

Because I know that only the extraordinary, the exceptional, the sublime fascinate her. The rest are mere diversion. And while her coquettish ways rouse in me a desire for her affections, I rather settle for that bare look, whence these modest works spring.

Welcome to Shipwreck Poems.