I have been held
Beyond what should have been
Addicted beyond hope
The vices I should have seen

Times will always change
As is the way of this life
Letting go is so hard to do
When it becomes the only vice

Stoic Poetry

Morning Routine

4am and the cats want food
Gentle paw strokes bring the light
Coffee is brewing too slow
Excited fur balls around my feet go

On the deck as dawn awakens
Writing a few new daily lines
Blank pages are a favorite thing
The fresh day and what it brings

A world at peace in quiet of sleep
I prayed to God my soul to keep
That others may remain safe
As daylight brings another wave

Stoic Poetry


When She Smiles

The world is a little lighter
Gloomy days a little brighter
When a simple little smile
All that is needed for a while

Words sooth a restless soul
In a world that’s taken a toll
She calms this manic mind
Words beautiful and kind

I have found my home
A land I have never known
And I will stay right here
With my heart ever near

Stoic Poetry


A world made of smaller ones
Divisive groups, fearful schemes
Keeping them far away  from us
Filtered through media screens

In oblivion lives are lived apart
Hoarding what we have gained
Seeing more of the differences
And not how we are the same

Dice were rolled, we were born
The gamble of better or worse
With blinders covering our eyes
Some are blessed, others cursed

Stoic Poetry


The signs were there
The slightest tarnish
The lackluster sheen
Coating the varnish

They call it a patina
At the end of the day
Removed and hung
Taken off and put away

Shine became rust
With pits and dings
The armor wears out
Like most other things

But I will wear it still
Until the end of days
The battle is borne
Holding the world at bay

Stoic Poetry


There were times when nothing mattered
A time when the edge was only a dream
No one can explain how this could happen
Always trying not to take this too far now

Surely we have been made for another place
Where every sound is a symphony yet unheard
Temptation is falling and calling us home
Beyond the boundaries of the city lights

When that moment comes, who will be your help?
Heaving the last air of a world slipping away
Seeing colors we have never seen before
Voices in the dark call but no one listens

Stoic Poetry