This Fence

How many of us leaned against this fence?

In times of joy, in times of pain?

How many of us stood there,

Wishing this moment would never end.

I remember standing below the lilacs as they bloomed.

Watching the sun heat up hanging iron horse shoes.

It was a lazy moment.

The smell of lilac heavy on my face.

Sun warming the skin of my neck.

Breathing deep and sinking in.

I touch this fence and felt my young body transcend.

-M.E. InkOwl

Mother Earth

shed your tears upon these stones,

forget where you’ve suffered the most

lean upon our Mother Earth,

tethering heart and soul to ground

drink upon a crystal well,

remember a wild open world

heal and be free,

ageless wonder that you are

-M.E. InkOwl

Wood of Ages

Touch not the wood of ages,

With its heart of poisoned Yew.

Lest we forget the great deception,

Wrought by blood and fire.

Listen to the calling wind,

Hissing between jeweled leaves.

Resist the urge to press yourself upon the waiting hedge,

Knowing it frames death’s door.

Crawl back from the Yew,

And remember mortality.

Call upon the Wood of Ages,

And remember thy fleeting youth.

-M.E. InkOwl

On-The-Go- Road Home

The world was so wild and unfamiliar,

Untamed, unrelenting despite the attempts of man.

All I had were my hands, feet, and eyes,

To continue upon an already crumbling path.

I lost myself along the way,

And stopped for too long to wallow.

The pathways of night closed round,

And I could not find the road.

Tall grasses replaced the guiding trees and hills,

That stretched toward my home long missed.

Then one day beneath the rain,

I found a path long unused and over grown.

I struggled through bramble and snagging thorns,

Almost again losing hope and the path.

How surprised I was to step through a long hedge,

Only to find the road home before in tact.

I fell to the ground and kissed its dust,

Crying joy for the mountains and sky.

Now I walk with purposed intent,

A different self entirely.

Pointed toward home,

I will not be deterred.

-M.E. InkOwl

Whispering To The Trees

I stand on my own two feet,

Knowing I am but a child upon an unending road.

Behind me a mountain have I tread,

Before me a rolling twisting world.

“I cannot go forward,” I whisper,

Knowing I am quite alone.

For a moment I stand there,

Breathing in the silent eternal roar.

And in a low hiss and ripple,

My fear is passed on to an old soul.

Body dappled from age and storm,

A thousand voices embrace my words.

Sentinels groan in the tides of existence,

Anchoring me with their heights.

I am not alone,

Heard by these old bones.

So I share my tears, worries, and woes,

Enveloped by their waving arms.

I continue on and on,

Whispering to the trees.

-M.E. InkOwl


Journey-man, lay down your tools and tell me a story,

Of far off lands and winter’s darkest spell.

Let me listen to your weathered oak voice,

As you toss me upon a waving sea of memory.

Pull me from my place of comfort,

And guide me up a winding mountain trail.

Sing of dragons and creatures of the deep,

While I hold fast to your arm.

Scatter infinite stars above my head,

And whisper to old bones of the earth.

Journey-man, Journey-man,

Teach me of the world beyond our home.

-M.E. InkOwl

On-The-Go- Cornflowers Blue

Dilly-dally this day away with me,

While bees buzz around the cornflowers blue.

Spare a moment by my side,

As wind tosses round tall cornflowers blue.

Hold me close beneath this purpling sky,

As off drop the petals of these cornflowers blue.

-M.E. InkOwl


awake and remember

your eyes once burned gold

and power one lost may yet be remembered

pull out stone tablet

read forth runes of an older age

summon the waiting dark

let flight the phoenix’s fire

-M.E. InkOwl