Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

this silent lie

21 May 2014



You wound me not with words like daggers thrust,

but more with silent judgment, broken trust.

Piercing eyes reveal all you will not say,

inflicting pain more slowly that way.

The agony of distance, sharp, defined,

unscaleable walls, exclusion refined.

Merciless misery, punishment’s glee,

torture from which I can never be free.

Death would be welcome if this torment ends,

too slowly I suffer, die, and descend.

No hope of atonement, you‘ll never forgive,

in your tomb of darkness I cannot live.

Break my legs, crucify me, let me die,

it’s better than living this silent lie.



21 May, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | 2 Comments

of which we mustn’t speak

27 April 2014



blood-tinged vision cheats darkness one more day,

but gratitude becomes harder to muster.

Cancer grows, kills, but blindness merely maims,

steal life, or just leave it so lackluster?

A severed branch quickly withers and dies,

like a river channel ceasing to flow,

a beastly burden to be ostracized,

by others, yes, but more by your own soul.

Chew off a foot, in order to survive?

My instinct seems too weak to seek release.

A few might understand the thoughts I hide,

those things of which we’re told we mustn’t speak.

Like rain beading up, I should just shake this off,

but it is more like a persistent cough.



27 April, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

private conversation

26 April 2014



Even the most carefully chosen words,

fail to capture the beauty of your smile;

my heart swells until I fear it may burst.

I want to sing in morning’s choir of birds,

to forget myself and worship for a while,

but sometimes I forget that faith comes first.


I feel my spirit crying out to you,

a hopeless, vile man whose soul is cursed;

I’ve forgotten what it means to be your child.

I only know, no matter what I do,


I hunger and thirst.



26 April, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , , | Leave a comment

many happy returns

26 April 2014



we all connect somehow, in our own way,

even if we are content to be alone,

whether it is ‘real’ or a fantasy,

through what we do, or perhaps what we say.

I’ve always been a loner, but I’ve grown,

embracing others reciprocally.

Too many live in lonely isolation,

and reaching out is risky certainly,

but invest in others, call it a loan,

it’s a worthwhile experimentation.

Try it, you will see.



curtal sonnet written for NaPoWriMo



26 April, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , , | Leave a comment


26 March 2014



woke up to Winter’s defiant last breath,

absolute whitening, with little depth.

March winds, true to form, howl in their fury,

no plea bargain, no favor to curry.

The wind clears the sky, the sun tries its best,

beaming its warmth at Winter’s stubbornness.

Even the trees shake off unwelcome white,

and wriggle green with such childish delight.

Someone is cranky, it’s time for a nap,

six months or so, and then you may come back.

And mothering Spring sings a lullaby,

as off to slumber Winter cries and sighs.

His tears become streams and rain on the earth,

all hearts rejoice at the joyful new birth.


26 March, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

is and always has been

04 March 2014



many are hopeless, romantics I mean,

writing of love, both imagined and real,

of loves we’ve lost, of loves we only dream,

of all we’ve felt before, and hope to feel.


we write of hearts broken, of hearts fulfilled,

of impossible highs and lowest lows,

of souls taught to sing, and souls sadly stilled,

we write of love that dies, and love that grows.


we write of longing, yet live loneliness,

and broken, hurting hearts lose hope, lose faith,

no longer believing in happiness,

writing memories as if it’s too late.


love is what it is and has always been,

both light and dark, inspiring to the end.



4 March, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

love’s just love (a sonnet)

17 February 2014



I love the way you lick your chin and nose,

It’s cute your eyes can’t both look straight ahead,

and no one else I’ve met can talk to crows,

or, word for word, repeat what I just said.

Watching you hang upside down by your toes,

that silly way you sleep under your bed,

that strange distaste you have for wearing clothes,

that come in any color except red.

You make me smile ‘cause you can’t sing on key,

yet you can somehow juggle with your feet,

so many things that others never see,

like how you only chew with your front teeth,

but I love you and I know you love me,

the secret is that we are both unique.

They like to say that love is truly blind,

but love’s just love, no matter who you find.



17 February, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

sonnet XV

22 January 2014



Snow lingers, a virginal veil disguise,

whispered promises, future hopes described.

Long white flowing, threading darkness with light,

a slow processional, altar in sight.

In beauty she walks, hearts gladdened with tears,

a march, unforgetting what changes draw near.

Slumbering life, coaxed to awaken soon,

resurrection reveals an empty tomb.

But hasten not, for life, for once begun,

all things must eventually succumb.

No circle ends, the hands of Time still turn,

we live as if, but no one ever learns.

We hope for spring and pledge our love in faith,

but then we fall and winter takes its place.



22 January, 2014 Posted by | Poetry | , | Leave a comment

Sonnet 14

02 January 2014


Of all the loves I’ve loved and lost,

if asked somehow to choose,

I’d contemplate a mental list,

but, name one not to lose?

It seems unkind to make such choice,

although not hard to do,

I’m sure many of them rejoiced,

to be rid of me too.

I narrowed it to two or three,

before I had a thought,

there was only one it could be,

the one who hadn’t fought.

None of the loves I lost, instead,

I’d choose to love myself again.


2 January, 2014 Posted by | Uncategorized | , | Leave a comment