On-The-Go- Life’s Theater

Walking tall between cloud and stone,

Listening for a valley storm.

Rumbling theater of bush and cliff,

Twisting up with finger’s stiff.

Now a wave of falling tears,

Wets the grass and rolling years.

Voices list with hissing praise,

As water flows down dusted ways.

Thank each cycle round which we live,

As dripping life ’round us is given.

-M.E. InkOwl



Even as I stand upon this empty lane,

I feel a shifting within the veins beneath my feet.

Something born upon the wind,

I taste in the coolness of the night.

Buzz of bee and shift of branch,

A shiver runs the world round.

“Prepare yourself,” whispers the wood,

Wisdom lining its face.

“Be malleable,” burbles the stream,

Knowledge rippling deep.

“Open yourself,” sings the sky,

Laying experience bare.

“Change,” beats my heart,

Knowing the fear inside.

-M.E. InkOwl

On-The-Go- Crevasse

Thrilling to stand beside,

Terrifying to look upon,

Hidden from the eye,

Drawn across a granite roof,

Gulp in mortality,

Feel blood and bone,

Appreciate these moments that shed light upon the youth of my species.

-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


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- Waiting

Something is going to happen.

There beyond the next bend in life.

An opportunity will rise.

Wings fluttering as it takes flight.

But before I tread or hear a sound.

I wait in an eternity of stillness.

-M. E. InkOwl

By My Side


Love me sweet beneath this falling snow,

As we sit upon this stone.

Lean in close and twine our fingers,

Whisper close so our touch does linger.

Reach my heart with your eyes so deep,

As your heart beats to love’s knowing leap.

-M.E. InkOwl