glass jar


memories kept inside an old glass jar,

silver lid shut tight.

there,  on an old wooden ledge, the jar quietly sits.

minutes pass,  hours and days swim by.

between the dust and cobwebs,

a past looks and swirls inside in a liquid air.

outside the glass,  a tomorrow silently flows by.

still!, when one lives inside the glass jar

one cannot see,  cannot reach for – and one cannot touch.

memories kept inside an old glass jar,

sliver lid shut tight.

there,  on an old wooden shelf,  the jar quietly sits.



c 2014 bgw






tonight,  i’m stuck in this dream

and the flame of reality just flickered away.

oh, here i run into an unknown tomorrow!

there i stand,  with a belief , that it’ll be somehow better .

there i’ll wake and swim my soul into pool of a past where i once drowned


never seeing my tears through a smile that i plaster on my face

carry on, i do –  until i plant my head in my pillow in an empty bed

the only thing that keeps me awake  is the remembrance of you

and then the image of you appears,  as i hold the pillow a little tighter

in the dark,  im lonely and im sad


never did i imagine that the morning would change our lives

i would have held you a little tighter

kissed you good-bye a little longer

damn that day that took you away from me!

never did i imagine that the morning would change our lives


tonight, i hold the pillow a little tighter

tonight, i hold the pillow a little tighter


tonight,  i’m stuck in this dream

and the flame of reality just blew out.

oh, here i run into an unknown tomorrow!

there i stand,  with a belief , that it’ll be somehow better .

there i’ll wake and swim my soul into pool of a past where i once drowned



c. 2014 bgw




saturday morning

six a.m.

i lay there until a reality snaps back

the dawn’s light grows brighter and slowly meets the twilight sky of the  evening

the room’s cool feel surrounds as i unwrap myself  from the comfort warmth of the flannel sheets.

i turn to rest my feet upon the carpet –

still reluctant to remove myself  from the comfort of sleep.

the fibers of the carpet surrounds my toes,

and i give myself a long stretch, arms above my head, torso stretched.

somehow i stand and drag one foot after the other in some sort of half awaken daze.

walking  myself over to the kitchen,

where the comfort of the carpet turns to a hard touch of wooden floor.

i stand by the coffee maker, and glance out the window.

with eyes adjusting, seeing an overcast sky through a lightly frosted window pane.

always wanting some other season,

the longing for summer formed in my head and i chuckled.

outside the window,  the maple tree leaves rustle as the morning breeze quickly whistled by the glass.

i am thankful that i stand inside.

grabbing a mug off of the hook,  setting  it in the holder;  the coffee starts brewing for my cup.

saturday morning,  seven a.m.  i start the day.

i let you sleep in for a while and  i head for the shower.

pulling  back the brown and mint curtain and turning the knob out and over to the hottest position.

i wait for the hot water to commence,

i brush my teeth,   shave my face and count the grey hairs that sneaked in the night prior.

the heavy steam starts rolling through,  covering the mirror,  and  i get in.

after all is done,  i dry myself off with the soft cotton towel and dress myself  for a cool autumn day.

before i quietly slip out of the room

i leave a kiss on your forehead,  beautiful as you are , and lucky as i am

i fall for you every day


i open the side door to the garage, and flip the switch

the fluorescent flickers, buzzes and turns bright.

tripping over all the left over summer garage sale junk, ,

i stumble over this pile that is stuck in stalemate.

i grab the leaf rake from off the wall’s hook,  and lift open the heavy garage door panel.

i walk out on the driveway and look over the yard.

i pick out my starting point which is the lower part of the property where the mighty oak lives.

fifty years, to be exact.  and it’s where the most leaves had fallen.

start with the hardest part and end with the easiest.

there are other trees in the yard, but none that added up to this elder of  trees.

the cool autumn breeze had turned chilly, and i pull the jacket together to zip it up.

continuing  as i am half way through the front yard’s  project,

and there i notice that you are  up and awake –

standing there on the front porch, casually leaning on the post,

in your p.j.’s covered by a thick cotton robe,  you wait for me to notice you.

behind your cup that you sip upon, you give me your inviting good morning smile.

and as you motion me to come join you,  a quick  swarm of leaves brush past

and i walk quickly through the sharp breeze and up to you, there we are-

kiss you good morning, hug me love.

you hand me another cup of coffee.

where there as it warms the hands,

the cool air draws massive steam to the java.

i take another sip and head back to the project at hand.

because you hate the cold,  you head back in quickly,

oh! but love it from the comfort of the warm window inside.

i smirk and rake till i’m done.

leaves headed to their new home  in the compost pile they sit,

where they will contribute to a springtime renewal.

i look around and take note of all the other pre-winter chores i have to get done.

i write them down, tuck the list in my back pocket and save them for another day.


i head in, and see that you are already steps ahead of me,

and surprising me with lunch already awaiting on the table

i go and freshen up

splashing water to the face and up to the elbows, i wash up.

i look in the mirror, still bothered by the grey hair count.

you laugh as you tell me that you like it, and that it makes me  look distinguished.

i give a quiet sigh and an unseen roll of the eye follows.

eating our lunch and relaxing on the couch,

we make plans for the rest of the day,

a grocery store run,  a movie madness afternoon fun.

lazy saturday afternoon.

we never leave the house,

never leaving the comfort of each others arms under the quilted blanket.

and within the first fifteen minutes of the first movie, one autumn saturday we shared,

simply, we shared falling asleep in an afternoon nap . . . . . .



c. 2013, 2014 bgw

you are: more than these words (poets edition)


sometimes curly,

sometimes straight.

light to dark and dark to light.

her hair changes upon season and mood.

eyes shine, glimmer like diamonds.

she’s a springtime song, thawing out the winter’s chill.

her face, smooth and delicate.

her silence says a thousand words,

her tone soft and angelic.

her presence, like soft falling snow – graceful and quiet.

the elegance, the beauty that she possesses outshines the sun on any given day.

when her smiles make an appearance, my heart becomes weak, and i fall again.

her skin, creamy; glowing.

her heart, caring and giving.  

a dedicated humanitarian,

though her modesty might say otherwise.

a seeker of truth, dwelling within the words.  

a wonderful mother, a juggling act between life’s headaches and little wonders.

a wife that only a man can dream of.

she is a symphony in life.

a rock upon which i can count on.

a friend no one can be.

the best.

you are.

you are more than these words,

more than what my painting can say.

you are the essence of my desire.

oh, my love!, my heart longs when you are away!,

and when you are within these arms,  i beg for forever!    


c.2013, 2014 BGW

writer’s silence



i sit in this room

watching the sun slowly crawl through an untamed sky

no music to soothe my mood

and no noise from the television

i sit in this room

listening to the silence



i sit at this desk

looking out these windows

pondering these things that were my past

and people who have come and gone

what have i done? is this where i need to be?

its winter and these frozen thoughts

slowly turn the  blooming doubt

into a summer warmth of certainty


looking out these windows

i sit at this desk in silence

taming  the doubt,

and molding it  into words of reality

i sit in this room

in silence,   finding the answers that i seek

i sit in this room

all in silence as it speaks….




c. 2014 bgw


i hear the moon shining through its phases

back home, the leaves that are falling,  i can’t stop them.

can you hear me?  –  through these waves i carry away

found is only a compass that points in all direction lost


through these sails,  tattered and worn

never  taking me back to where i thought once conquered

shipwrecked are beliefs once conceived in an empty belly of  blind echoes

dreaming of a change that turns  this ship around


not one or another can you find at the helm,

mutiny found in a soul – party of one

only am i,  captain of this ship,

only i can lift my hand and steer this vessel into the oncoming daylight


i hear the moon shining through its phases

back home, the leaves that are falling,  i cant stop them.

shipwrecked are these hopes

dreaming of a change that can turn this ship around




c. 2014  bgw