Modern Masquerade

modern masquerade

cherry blossoms pop pink

highlighted with whipped cream petals

cotton candy on chocolate coated cones

bright against sapphire skies lean away

from four rush hour lanes

across from




a modern










attempts at


carve away aesthetic agony of commercial zoned cancer


Your cold silence plagued these last two moons

Hope, once cherished, lies in ruins

A promise rescinded can hold no sway

Such noble vows your actions did not obey

That you were pained, I give my sorrow

Love cannot thrive when the heart must borrow


Ever do the hours creep

toward early twilight and forever sleep

but in these waking days

their dreams they raise.

Lost in distant pastures green

with no regrets for where they’ve been

yet in the end, how can they measure

where all effort seeks only pleasure?

In ages past all day was toil

the only goal to live off plants and soil.

Beyond each milestone the world has passed

Patience lurks, unused, and fading fast

“Returning Home”

You can see my selected photo here, on Richard Buchanan II’s portfolio site.

Clay skeletons

Stand at the burial

Of their eroded brothers

Winter’s blanket

Dimpled by earth and sun

Cleans away grief, not hope

If buildings stood here once before

They can stand here again

On the graves of their ancestors

Home may never be the same

But the next generation can always return

This poem was in response to Sunday’s writing prompt.


Illuminating illuminations

First made by campfire

Succeeded by rush lights

Candles thought they were supreme—

—Boasting their fine and slender tapers

Oil lamps, the courage of Ocean’s leviathans

Replaced by gas—

—For the upper class

Electricity now runs rampant

Tying us, binding us in coils of wire

All the while

Sun, stars, and moon chuckle from the heavens

At our small attempts to recreate their essences

We are Prometheus

Guitar String

Only moments seemed to pass

since I was torn from plastic home.

You stretched me out, tied me down

pulled me thin, until I sang.

My moments were your weeks

I practiced just like you.

Though I tried

flexibility became elusive—

—I snapped.

Breaking free of my binding

I lashed out.

Now coiled in the trash

five fellows and I buried

with broken song.

I see you

rip apart

fresh plastic

pull from naive safety

your next victim.

Psyche’s Lament

Great odes he sang her at the fall of night

Upon his form he bid her “do not look”

Torment at sisters’ hands ends love in fright

Too trusting of her will—Eros mistook

With Aphrodite’s game now revealed

Psyche’s apology Eros would not brook

Cast from his company, her fate sealed

Doomed ever to walk the earth alone

His love from her forever concealed