He’s digging my grave
For the dragon he pays
With our nest, now shaved
Tumbling into the shade
I visit the velvet robes of the past
The ones that didnโt last
The will to relive what was comes at night
And must be excluded by daylight.
ONCE IN TIME
Category: POETRY
WRITER AND AGENT
RELOCATION REVEALS THIS, A POETRY FOLDER FROM 2002
ย ย
In that first blink
I recall the joy of breaking ink
That first line of verse
Applauded by the universe
Settled in paper
Dried thoughts
Scrapes of the heart
Before it tore me apart
The time has come
To where I want to belong
And sing the thoughts that live in my shed
Without the tone of agent’s breath
Blowing chagrin on my song.
FAME & FAILURE
SHAME IN SHY
LIKE EYES OF A SPY
HOWLING IN THE STREET
A GUTTURAL CRY
TO BE RECOGNIZED
LIKE JAGGER AND DYLAN
WHERE THEY DWELL
THE SHEEP WILL FOLLOW
CHASING PIECES OF THEIR PIE
CLOAKED IN YOUR SUCCESS
WE HOPE TO IMPRESS
THE ONES WHO TOOK YOUR HAND
TO THE PROMISE LAND.
TO BE PASSED OVER BY THE GAME
AND WATCH YOUR MASTERPIECE LAY IN BLAME
NO ONE NOTICED
YOU HAVE PASSION
IN DARK FLAMES
SHY IS A SHAME WHEN YOU ARE TOO PLAIN
SEDONA SENSUAL
:
A MELODY OF LOVE CRIES
MY LOVER AND I CHASE THE SUNRISE
GRASPED THE PASSION
FLAMES BURIED IN COMPROMISE
SCATTERED POOL BALLS IN A HONKY TONK
DRANK RED WINE
SPOONED FRESH LIFE INTO DRY MOUTHS
STARED MESMERIZED INTO EACH OTHER’S EYES
MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN THE SUNRISE
OF MOMENTS
ENGRAVED IN OUR MINDS
IN A POEM THAT DOESN’T NEED TO RHYME
UNCERTAINTY
Unprepared, who knows where
The leaves will fall
They donโt plan
Where to land
Undisclosed strangers will walk in our paths.
Cross our hearts and
Tread our minds
Evil intercepts, betrayal, intimidation, abandonment, financial sabotage.
Uncertainty
We traverse our heart’s discourse
Shooting for dreams of undiscovered lands
More weightless plans
I donโt know if I can see ahead
My steps, like pebbles, follow the rush in the river
On the edge of a quiver
Skipping towards freedom
In summer, rays of light
Like a leaf, I break free from the branch
To land a launch.
POP-UP POEM
He pushed her on a swing, so high she touched the sky, viewed the world through his eyes, lived for a time without lies, then as mystically as he appeared, he let go of the swing, and she fell on her wing, broken but with the will to begin again. A broken heart hasnโt stopped her from loving him.
For ten days, just thinking of her spoken words, how they made their way to his ears and returned the sounds she so wanted to hear. When he stopped contacting her, she wiped her tears as some people find love at the core of their fears.
WHY LIE
When do we begin to lie about our life our feelings, our fears, our everything? I ask this because of simple observation, knowing when someone is not telling me their truth and I remain silent, it’s not my way to ask, why do you lie to me? My friends are not lying, it’s more like a social cultural mask. My wise father once told me ‘Tell them your sister or father just died, and they’ll respond, excellent because they do not want to hear your problems.’ But I do, I’ve always wanted to know the truth. Why should we shield our traumas and hardship, more than our triumphs and accomplishments? Do you know who does not lie? ART and SPORTS. That is why we listen to music, read books, go to galleries and museums, films, the theater, and ballet or other dance performances. I cannot comment on sports because I’m not a spectator although I do love basketball.
We, and I mean this in only a visceral sense, do not believe the politicians, news, social media, or advertisements. We want to, but deep in our inner truth, we know it is the manipulation of our individual thoughts. And that my friends is why I trust art to deepen my understanding of the human condition. Thank you to all the artists and athletes who share their pain and glory.
WHAT IS A LOVE STREAM
TWO EMBANKMENTS WEDGED BETWEEN A STREAM
THAT RIPPLES THE UK TO THE USA.
WHAT FALLS BETWEEN THE MEANDERING
USHERS GENTLE WAVES, LOVING CARESSES
SMASHES WHEN THE WAVES ARE EVIDENT.
SOAR TO BRING THEIR STREAM TO REST
TO FIND THE BEST
BELIEVING EXIST AND DESTINY FLOW
THEY DONโT KNOW
IF THE STREAM WILL ENTWINE
ENSNARE OR EMBRACE
EMBANKMENTS MEANT TO SHOULDER
UNTIL THEY โVE FOUND EACH OTHER
WHERE WERE YOU ON 9/11 AND HOW DID YOU FEEL ON 9/12 2001 AND 9/12/2022???
Paper deaths mounting in pages written
By authors and reporters
On the day of bloodshed twenty-one years after
The morning news
Around the world
That our Towers fell on innocence; walking, living, twirling the streets of Manhattan.
Tears are shed in buckets of smoke between the sheets of death
The men and women that died shine through the wicked divide
Of hatred and love
Flames of courage cape first responders, and unknown heroes
Beaming down every morning
On tables arranged by nations and religions
In the homes of Democrats and Republicans
United tears all of these years.
Months turn over on calendars
New episodes and reality shows
Graduation and separation
Replaced furnishings and
Sketches of a vacation
Events the rest of us chatter up in coffee houses
While the stories of nine-eleven lay today in the headlines
On newsstands
In the windows of memory
Never forget
RANDOMLY ON THE MOON
MOON OVER LA.
Her destiny arrived just past midnight
Next to a burning red candle
The wholeness of empty by her side
Insight living inside
Does not lay blame or cause pain
A spoonful of teenage reminiscence
I want to be alone
The foreshadowing future looms
In the twilight of a waxing gibbous moon.
YOUR GRATEFUL OR YOU ARE NOT
In a Sunday silence, she hopscotches to a nuance in 2018 when a handsome man offered a hand of conversation.
He walked with her and stopped in front of a Spanish Colonial residence shrouded in exotic flora and fauna.
โ Thatโs where I live,” he said keenly.
โ How long have you lived there? she asked
โ Thirteen years. I am so grateful for my home.โ
She silenced her thoughts, less thankful of her dome.
She once lived on a street
Of serenity and beauty
Her view was scoured with a sightlessness of New Mexican history
Unshaken by the homes regal display
To live without grateful when your basket is complete.
Is like living in blindness from head to foot.
ALL THERE IS TO LOVE
He pushed her on a swing, so high she touched the sky, viewed the world through his eyes, lived for a time without lies, then as mystically he appeared, he let go of the swing, and she fell on her wing, broken but with the will to begin again. A broken heart hasn’t stopped her from loving him.
For ten days she stared unblinking, just thinking of her spoken words, how they made their way to his ears and returned the sounds she so wanted to hear. She wiped the tears as some people find love at the core of their fears. The strain of regaining her former spiraling spirit and beating heart may not come for months. She says to herself out loud, ‘it must, I must.’ As written, sung, painted, and performed for hundreds of years, love is undefinable as it is something supernatural.
ADVENTURERS IN SINGLE LIVINGNESS 