The Oak

A once delicate acorn

now shades me;

the leaves breathing

and quivering

with the sun.

Greens and browns heave

the chilled tangles of roots and limbs

and spaces hidden in between.

A warm pulse thaws

the skeletal yearning,

until frozen sighs

return, again.

Podcast #9

the outer view

– By Robert Walker
A Little Bit of Drama

Beneath a mountain of tedium,

In a dull ugly system,

In an empty ocean of shadows,

Is a silhouette of pure fire heat

Drifting in the dark.

All I wanted was the wind;

The wind murmured with anticipation,

The grass turned to icy grey,

A fine mist fell,

And with the mist came my sorrow

Cooling my body

With her thousand kisses,

Leaving me there.

I am surrounded by ice crystals

floating down through silence

into soft glowing snow.

The only sound is the pulse of my breathing.

As the sun sleeps,

how many hearts are dreaming,

when the world stands still.


Dead shadows dance in the night

yearning for the dawn;

Cold and forgotten walking scars,

drained by decay,

wasted by time,

stretch out,

hungered and blurred,

to a spark ignited,


rising from the ground;

From the last depths,

rays of hope entwine in the sky,

kissing the hills,

breathing new life

and wonders layered in light. 

Naked with joy, a new day, a new world is born.