Clouds… They Are Not

Pastel paramours

Of sun-setting hues,

Those ephemeral provocateurs

Ever bidding adieu,

They call themselves clouds

While roaming the blue

Expanse of the skies

Seeking adventures anew. 

I’ll call them none other

But the name that is truth,

For clouds they are not. 

They’re the memories of youth. 

–C. Green




Brave the heavens above, my son,
And let this world know your light.
Dare the stars for prominence
Among their ceaseless night.
Blaze a path for those who spurn
Your eminence and your might
Against the vastness of a frigid space,
And lead them from wrong to right.
Son, be as the Sun, and let your warmth reign.
–C. Green

This poem is in response to the photo poetry request by Zero Creativity Learnings accompanying sun photography.

Tourist… Let Me Roam

Let me roam where no man shall go,
And I will deliver exotic cartography–
Rivers with flourish and fluid strokes,
Ravines with aquiline symmetries.
I’ll give names to each valley
Where only the wind was let roam,
Make known the vast seas
Where only the tide’s ever gone.
Whether surveyor measuring
Or tourist at ease,
Let me surely explore
All that’s been left uncharted and unseen.
–C. Green


Maestro and Muse

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Like an ember flaring amid August pine, the heat sealed her fate and opened her lips. Who knew a kiss could burn? Tequila and a wedge of lime followed by a shot of moonshine, quick and too smooth for her untried appetites, the world spun around her axis.

Then she asked, “When can we do that, again?”

He smiled–such a smile–with lips, teeth and the tip of his tongue… a warm-up of sorts, choral prelude to the best interludes she would ever know.

He called her his muse, and she named him her maestro.

–C. Green

Opening Line

*Flash fiction in response to this week’s Discover Challenge.*

Water… River Promenade

Walk to the river’s edge, my son,

And read from the poet’s life…

Fortunes atop white-capped waves,

Trials across grey-worn skies.

Words flow like hallowed water,

Testaments to fire and years,

A snow-wept cross, his burden–

An apotheosis of tears.

–C. Green

*After strolling along the Eastern Promenade, I walked through Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s childhood home today…*


How Goes the Night?

How goes the night, Northerly breeze?

Swaying the boughs, laying claim to their leaves?

Did you add to their fall? The needles say much.

Cones litter the ground at the barest of touch.

No? Then, perhaps, it’s merely the sea–

Those eternal waves, playing tricks upon me.

Though, I could swear yours was the voice

I heard upon tonight’s air.

There! I am right…

So true. It isn’t becoming–this jealousy–

But what else might I feel when you deprive me of sleep?

–C. Green


Prophecy… A Cup of Coffee


I looked unto him,

And he glimpsed into me,

There as we gazed almost hesitantly.

Between us sat, rather innocuously,

A sweetly scented cup of black coffee.

“Cream?” He asked, innocently,

Nearly, because he’d ordered the one, you see.

“Might we share?” He asked, daringly.

Yes. A miser I would not be.

A drink with him, I’d share quite happily.

A drink, a dance, a love, a life…

Yes. I’d share quite happily.

–C. Green


Partners… Big Brother, Little Sis


Siblings looking out across the ocean– Kiptopeake, VA

There is no one quite like a sibling. Childhood partners and playmates, so much about peer interaction–empathy, sharing, fury and love–are learned between them. In my case, I am the eldest with a younger brother. We share a tribal knowledge–a tribe of two. The way I view the world, the way I go about raising my children, the way I play with them… they all reflect my experiences with my brother. The privilege of seeing him grow into adulthood, to watch him become a man I’m proud of, to know he can always count on me because I am still his big sis… I wish these things for my own children.

This photo is a couple years old.  I asked them to pose for me at the edge of the water while we played on a beach that summer. I thought of my brother and the hope I have for these two siblings–that they grow into adulthood able to rely on each other, having shared the best of memories.