Poems

So, New Year’s Eve. Atrocities around the world, Mother Nature continuing to erupt With little concern for life. (What kind of mother is she?) No miracles to bolster faith, Only broken relationships, Undeserved illnesses, Unthinkable personal traumas, Deaths, Losses of every sort and kind. Exactly! Can’t be a God. But how could there not be? Perhaps an inside discussion with yourself, Or with your friends, As you watch the year unwind itself, The numbers tumbling from The face of the clock into oblivion, Into a history that no longer exists. Unfortunately, We will probably not find God On a synaptic journey, Poking around the amygdalan storehouse Where our limiting mental models of reality Fight for first place. We will not find God trudging through The cement of disillusionment, doubt And disbelief. If we insist upon searching for God in the left hemisphere, We may find comfort in Cause and effect, But h

There are men And there are men. Men, bulging with strength, Strutting with courage. Men, pretentious in their honesty. Men, decorated for their bravery. There are men And there are men. Then, there is this man. Secure in his strength, Admittedly anxious when courage calls. (Only cowards feign calmness, He will tell you.) An open book in his honesty. (Only thieves steal the truth, He will tell you.) No medals to show, but a brave heart He wears. (Only the dead care to wear medals, He will tell you.) Most men play by the rules or not. Most men play by the numbers or not. They have calculated and lost their souls, He will tell you. I play with the Gods, He will tell you. The Gods play by heart.  It is his heart That makes him a gentle man. It is his heart that makes him different From other men. (Winners and losers do not have a heart He will tell you.) It takes a heart to beat the odds, It takes a heart

O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Alight with gentle feet. Dance amidst the tinsel, The lights, skirt about The Christmas table, set For the feast. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Set ablaze with tender fire, The hearts of all who marvel At your glow. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Quicken your bluish flame Fluttering in the eyes of jealous lovers, Yearning to be touched by you. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Extinguish not yourself Till Love burns brightly, Yet consuming not Heart nor soul. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Envelop the air With sweet potpourri, The fragrance of love, Till the night is ravished By the morning sun. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Sing feverish melodies, Refrains of passion, a never-ending Cadenza of our hearts’ delights. O Spark, Born of a Christmas Kiss, Flash, flame, but flicker not, Till the lips that bore you Gently extinguish you With y

We meet lik e this often, Sitting across from each other at our favorite spot, Sipping coffee, Peering into each other’s eyes, Discovering all we can about Our own lives through the mirror, The mirror we offer each other. “You’re really lonely,” I finally broke the silence. You can’t imagine what it sounds like When you break the silence. Of course, it sounds like nothing, Nothing at all, except The sound of your voice. And my voice, It sounded lonely as well. Maybe, that’s how I knew. “I am not afraid of dying,” he spoke. “What I am afraid of is when I die, When I get to heaven. I will wander there Alone. I will be happy that I am there, But my familiar sense of being alone In the universe Will continue to haunt me. It seems like a core thread to my being, Like a curse I will carry with me Back into infinity. But how can that be? “Can you somehow draw this thread, This curse, Out of my heart, Out of my

FEELING LONELY Some look for you, Lord, In your sun, in your moon In your stars. Some actually look for you, Lord, In the faces of the others. Some look for you, Lord, In the many acts of kindness That occur every moment of every day, Often overlooked and missed by the rest of us. I look for you here, Lord, Here in the bed next to me. I even look under the bed Or in the closet, ‘Case you’re playing hide ‘n seek, A game the psalmists seem to think You play our entire life, Lord. I look for you in the kitchen Next to the coffee pot, Or in the garden Where I've often seen you, Planting and watering. I look for you at your station, Lord, Where you make the others Beautiful and becoming. My obsession to keep looking Everywhere,   More than I can resist, Lord. Today, Lord, You’re nowhere to be found Except in my heart, of course. I know, Lord, how picky can I be? I can eat and drink, Lord, I can take pleasur

DAVID'S POETRY His poetry Is right there, At his fingertips, In his fingertips. His poetry is delicious, Molto delizioso! THANK YOU, DAVID, For sharing your soul food With us.