stepping out into the crisp coldness

what would have been expected darkness

was ever so lit up by the full moon

mystery of thousands of years ago

is about to happen again

the third in a tetrad

a blood moon

total lunar eclipse

simply standing there bundled in heavy sweaters

watching and experiencing

if I squint my ears

I can almost hear the light wooshing

 as the moon orbits

then a delicate little grating as the earth lines up

between sun and that brilliant moon

the experience is awe inspiring

reminding me that this universe

far greater than my mere speck

likely knows so much more

than I will ever be able to know

I am humbled

with a sudden little tear dribbling down

my cold soft cheek

how fortunate am I to be a part

of so much great vastness

to be a tiny little observer

of just a minor little part of a whole

I step back inside

behind the windowed door

that I might get warm

yet continue to see

as the lunar eclipse unfolds

I find myself looking full on

into the moon’s beautiful face

as I hear your voice from afar

reminded me that you are

a huge ocean away where you remain

forever engaged in a land that does not let go

I am in love with the moon

I am in love with the ocean

I am in love with you

In these moments

love becomes more real

than my even breathing

or your heart’s continual beat

In these moments nothing is unknown

everything is new in astounding brilliance

My ancestors smile

My children grin

You and I

we kiss like it is our first

all over again

Then I turn to watch the earth

cast shadows across that moon

once we called ours

It really is a small part

of this huge universe



fragments of memento mori



remember you must die

with the remembering 

comes the living more sensitively


the sip of coffee becomes the last drink

the view of the tree out the window

becomes that last look


in each moment that death is remembered

living becomes that more grand in the simplicity


why do we look for ways to dull our senses when 

we are down about our circumstances

we do it to die rather than live

yet living through, promises the triumph

of knowing we can do it

we can make it through and be more

than the circumstances that seemed 

at a point before to control us


Look for life in the reminders of death

that living might be just that grand 

in the schema of human strifes

there is living to be done

surprises to take in with our breaths




she feels convicted by words on a page

then not wanting to deal within

she stomps on the author to end

denial is her only friend

yet in the acts of desired hurt

she forgets her life is worth 

as much as any human’s

for death is but one last breath

but living is exactly what she might make of it

she is scared of her own shadow

so screams and screeches at others

with grand bravado

as if that makes her taller and stronger

she missed yet another chance to

begin her life and shape it

with an attitude of gratitude

her green eyes dart around 

to find anyone else to criticize

so she does not have to experience

her own life

then take responsibility for living


she has neglected memento mari

yet others see it in her

to then live with their own purpose

more greatly convicted


come forth glory

of the life

living brings!




he sucks down yet another drink

in hopes he can forget what he can not now change

while he is wallowing in self pity

he is justifying by shaming and blaming others

yet if he sobered to recognize the skull

simply reminds that 

he too can take charge of his own life

begin again to shape with his own breath

what he wants in these breathless moments

before tipping off the mountain top

to exhilirate in the moments 

he can now appreciate

knowing that every human is promised death

every human can make life at his best

bring the senses out of the fog

rise up knowing them 

embrace as a part of the whole

and BE which is great.






through blue lenses reflect such wondrous light

tis fine imperfect as wabi sabi 

for in those cracks 

more light

more living

more reminders

than soon enough

life ends

make of it 

what she can

while she can.

Lenses of blue light

reflecting back again.





no, work is what he knows

what defines him most

he missed out on several chances

he may well miss out yet again.

Humbleness is becoming.

When pride is set aside

connections can be made

yet again…..

for there was a willingness

still is

that living can be done

together now and then


see what can happen

if only you let your full self

be what it has hope it could be

in spite of your grabbing

holding your breath

so that living did not have to accept

the imperfections of building connections

one living stone moment at a time


breathe then live

beginnings are available

as long as aire can be taken in


living is not predictable but

aye aye captain

death is.





We set sail tomorrow

with cracks here and there

will we make it in storms

of course as long as life

is reminded of its preciousness

as death is all we can count upon.


Breathe in

Exhale out

Look at the sails fill with wind

Remember to stand at the bow

Smile as the miles of ocean

fold under the ship.


Purpose of living 

is what we each make of it.


© 1998-2016 by KLB

The Sea


The surf crashes in with its steady flowing music

A breeze carries the smell of a well washed aire

That entices me to lean forward toward the endless ocean



 Someday I shall lay down unto her open arms to remain forever

That I become a part of her as if I was there before and always

Her voice the siren calling to me ~ as my heart sings back gratefully

I come to you forever dear Sea



 Have you ever noticed the harder you try to end pain, the more pain does not end?

(English translation for those who do not know Italiano)

Suffer In Silence


My love you go away
it’s so sad and you know that
What useless days
I will live by thinking of you
I’ll give my life to have you always
close to me
Like a voice that by now
I know already,
this silence will speak to you of me
nothing could change
even if I must wait

Like a voice that by now
I know already
this silence will speak to you of me
My love, you go away ,
but you’ll return again
Good night my love
I’ll see you in my dreams
Good night to you
who are distant


Land South of Somewhere



High in the turret perched

overlooking the

Land South of Somewhere

morning brushes her face

as she peers through the misty veil

that lays over the tree shrouded mountains

she wonders about her fate

she wonders about his too

she knows they shall never speak again

for one another to hear

it was a moment

just a quick inhale

in a length of time

called a life

that living it meant only those moments

now memories left carved deep into hearts

that are woven into souls

in this land of slow drawn speech

she came quietly to seek

the reprieve she needed to heal

that she might move on

knowing memories of him

are forever carried deep


Land South of Somewhere

marks painful time in drops of life blood

til the sunsets after the rain

wash away some of the immediate pain

that once again she might breathe

at the least to walk down over the next hill


the wounded tree



The electric energy from the clouds was not what killed my soul


Twas the sword of man with much noise as he sawed me through


My heart cried out with great sadness

The birds swirled round in circles tending my wake

The ground heaved with the collective heartache

The child sat silently under my withering branches


We all knew wounds that were far too deep


When the ignorant destruction of man 

weilded ungraceful yet tragic gashes

caring only for his insignificant wins


Shall that my roots buried deep yet green

Arise from the nurturing earth once again

When this fine land is rid

Of the treachery and narcissism

of man



on the road to perdition

life as short as it is

hands out a long dusty road

for some

of which I happen to be one

I may have hit overload on my

 how-much-I-can-handle meter

yet the journey

cuts me no slack nor has my back

seems when all dayum you

you are stuck traveling the path

all alone

with no real home to land in

these days people do not take in



they set them

on the way to


I can not stop my compassion

nor the flow of volumes of empathy

simply becuz everyone hates me

on this road to perdition

which by the way

is where you not only set me

and left me

but lest you forget

you met me

does that not say something

about you

altho I wish for you only

the moon

a poet’s desperation

This is the post excerpt.

At that moment that words slip away from the soul connected to the heart
to lay down upon a visualized surface
the desperation begins for the poet
who dares not envision
being read.

The poet cannot help itself
as the creations ooze from
the depths of a universe
where no chaos was refused
and parallelism existed
with no nods from acceptance
simply fluid energy unending.