So Much

I own very little
Yet I have so much
Walls to stay warm
Amidst the storm

Breathing every morning
Is the gift of all gifts
And when I am hungry
There is food to feed me

Shiny baubles have faded
Into the tarnish of time
I never have missed them
What I had back when

Stoic Poetry

Back And Forth

They never stop
Going nowhere
Back and forth
Here and there

Always in a hurry
Without a destination
Never arriving
Moving in desperation

There is no peace
And it will never stop
Someplace always to be
Until the day they drop

Stoic Poetry

Wasted Moments

Scrolling; always scrolling
Images already seen
Words already heard
Yet the moments go
Lost as so many

Searching for wisdom
We already know
Agreement craved
As all do
Lost, as so many

Regret is more wasted time

Stoic Poetry

The Race

Nihilistic from the moment we are conceived
Hurtling towards certain demise 
Atavism repeating the cycle 
Fate determining fate

Between the starters pistol and the finish line
We run someone else’s race
No relay here, only you
Risking it all

Always running, forever feeling chased
Hurdles attempt to slow progress
Falling we pick ourselves up 
Scraped knees and all

Run on, run faster, and reach that finish line
With the shiny prize firmly in hand as we die.

Stoic Poetry



Looking for beauty in things
The cost on the tag
Sets the joy it brings

Having more than the other
Seems to be the goal
Continuing, we gather

Onward reaching, we grasp
From one to the next
Today falls to the past

Until we are at the end
With no place to go
Empty time we spent

Stoic Poetry

Autumns Chill

(Wolves were reintroduced in Wisconsin, then wolf hunting was reinstated.)

Autumn’s chill, carving north woods amber leaves
deadfall, inevitable, just not so literal, please
silent whispers, padding the soft forest floor
beauty and stealth, grey ghosts pace as in times before

Once again they hunt their ancestral grounds
returned by our hand, a second chance found
their lives taken in the simple stroke of a pen
again, as many times before, we sin, and sin again

So much given to us, in trust that we betray
stubborn, stupid children, we must have our way
shepherds of the damned, into self-pleasure we delve
when the only thing we care about is… ourselves

For sport without purpose, we lay lives to waste
beauty and grace fall to a trigger pulled in haste

Stoic Poetry


Vanity spews unchecked
To an unwillingly captive audience
I am this and I did that”, “look at me, me, me”!
“Make me pretty, I am pretty, I am aren’t I”?

Maybe I am just tired or tainted
or just possibly because I shaved my head
by choice, probably.

So much time spent on words without value
time that will never be retrieved
a seemingly limitless future of endless words
if only that were true

This one minute, one second, may well be the last
the one that truly matters
use every word wisely
you may well be having that final word

Stoic Poetry

The Fallen

Too many fall before their time
Into the distance crosses by the line
In shady fields their souls now rest
The young and brave who faced the test

In foreign lands so far from home
They bore their task with great aplomb
Above the earth where now they lay
A bugle calls their final day

In times to come we may yet see
Their sacrifice did not need to be
When words unheard  become the sword
A bleak sad future we march toward

Stoic Poetry