Poems

Passers-by admire, oh yes admire. Rich, moist, freshly-turned, seemingly yearning For Your gentle fingers to push through So many invisible layers with new seeds. A perennial or two perhaps You’ll grace me To stop this endless planting. Ah, how no one knows The rich, moist, freshly-turned Feels raw to me, quite naked,  Fearful of the winds, the rains Flooding through to places in my soul Where no roots abound Only memories. Memories of untold, Unplanned, unexpected up-rootings. Memories of blossoms long since bloomed, scuttled, Buried for mulch or burnt Mercilessly in a pile of clippings, cuttings, Pruned limbs, not even dead. ❦ It sometimes takes me days, Sometimes weeks, Sometimes many a conversation with You To open my eyes and see and hear, To notice this small patch “work,” Is but a small patch in an endless garden  Where I get to live with You Forever and ever. So now that I have come to my senses, ...

To you, my Love, my hand outstretched to dance The day, the night the seasons all.  A song Did sing upon our hearts our souls.  No chance Event it was some years ago.  Not long Before new Love, our love, no boundary knew. Our arms, our eyes embraced our lips did kiss Our dreams spun webs of silk, delights not few. To let it fly away we'd be remiss. I spun you 'round and 'round, our hearts alight In dance, in joy, like stars against the sky. I heard you whisper in my soul, so bright Your voice, so soft your face, your words not shy Nor mine.  Our love like winds across the sea. Our song, our dance, forever more will be. ❦

I held your eyes, your hands Till I knew it was time, Time to let you pass. I watched you fly away To the horizon and beyond. I squinted, Wanting to follow you to The very very last. I come back, day after day Peering into that same horizon Where I last saw you flying home, Hoping, hoping by some miracle, I will see the horizon shimmer, Letting me know you are returning. Today as I stood vigil Awaiting your return, I sensed you next to me. At first I cried. I couldn’t touch you. But then I laughed, And you said something to me I will never forget. “Yes, I am here,” you said. “It’s hard for me to believe You cannot see me. I am right here. "I can see everything now Here and there, And the 'there' is where you are. Well, you’re here too Because there is no time here. We are all here. "So go home. Stop waiting for me to return. I have already. Look for me With your soulful eye...

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 h...

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 ...