Sunday in September

On a quiet Sunday morning
Cattle standing lowing
In the fields; behind the fencing
Bright cool light of dawn commencing

Across the hills;across the sky
Strands of pink cotton candy fly
Like ballooning spiders casting web
Tentacles from the sun are spread

A gentle wind, rustling leaves
Dances through the tops of trees
Sparking dew lit diamonds there;
Casting emeralds through the air

Maples, fluttered by the breeze
Send forth their helicopter seeds;
Gypsy fruit that congregate
Swiftly, as if they were running late

Upon the dawn and through the air
The slightest hint of autumn there
Soon the maples will turn to embers
Burning the edges of September

What joy and peace the morning brings
Like angel harps with sunlit strings
Until the whole of nature sings
While in the distance church-bells ring

Spring Magic

Spring leaf veined
Minnow's winding way
Tiny tadpole tails
Wriggling with life

Salamander darting
Sun to shade
Tiny child fingers
On dandelions

Blue sky canopy
White cloud curtains
Floating freely
In the breeze

Butterfly dancing
Barely afloat
Rising; falling
On flower-like wings

Have we forgotten
The nobility of trees?
The proud oak;
Humble willow crying?

Dogwood blossoms
And honeybees
Brown fertile earth
All but sighing

Lazily drifting
By the stream
Gurgling a lullaby
To the lost

Silent round stones
Echoing dreams
Over a carpet
Of velvet moss

Walk with me
Beneath the sun
While the web
Still holds some dew

Smile with me
Till day is done
And magic
Comes alive in you

Waiting

Waiting

Rivers of tears
The ocean of man
Salt and life
Of humanity

Pride and fear
We understand;
Love and the pain
Of calamity

Each becomes
In his own way
Faith, hope
And charity

A reflection
Of that
To which he prays;
Comfort or disparity

Empathy is needed
Where love exists
Build a bridge of souls
In the casting, reach

Sympathy for hatred, greed
Evil must enlist
Hearts grow cold
Without a voice to teach

We do not war
With flesh and blood
This is our battlefield;
Every heart and mind

We cannot kill
And be understood
Or preach a great ideal
To souls of humankind

Beat your swords to plows
Feed and clothe the poor
The destroyer destroys
The Creator creates

Is anyone listening now
Rushing off to war
As governments deploy
And Armageddon waits?

In Between

In Between

Among the blossoms in the orchard
Where the sweetness subtly shifts
From apple to apricot, a young boy walks

He stoops to study the olive foliage
Woven round brown
Broken twigs in a wreath

Luxurious leaves so complex
Intricate arteries interlaced
All things are connected

Limbs and branches to the tree
Arms and legs; hands and feet
He himself; part of something bigger

The universe so vast; solar systems
planets, suns, stars of other galaxies
Pulsing with life... more than blood

Here in shrubs slightly higher
Than his own head he finds wonder
A different shade of green unseen

Stretched between the branches
Like the story in the Bible
A serpent smooth, lithe and agile

He grasps the cool creature
Gently, gently and holds him aloft
The flickering tongue offers no protest

He's only seeking sustenance
In insects and spiders among
Apricot branches and gently returned

How many mysteries are hidden
Just so, going silently unseen
Miracles connected by something
In between

A Day in the Sun

Midnight crickets hushed
By damp grassy footsteps
Flashlight wielding shadows
Wandering towards home

I was a bit drunk
You were moonlight beautiful
Under the stars
Those wise and wonderful stars

When the embers of our fire
Were quenched with water
The last song played
On my guitar

Memories lingered
Of walking the Bizarre
In the heat of the day
Where I bought you a ring

You smiled that smile
My soul was warm wax
Melting with my heart
Into our everything

We searched out the restrooms
In panic and impatience
Baby riding your bladder
Like a trampoline

I felt her kick this morning
Stretching, turning
Can she even begin to know
How much she is loved?

Now the day ends too soon
As we walk hand in hand
Back towards home
From the dew drenched field

I see in your green eyes
By the kitchen light
Satisfaction and hope
As I smile in understanding

Heaven and Earth

Once was a raindrop in a crowd
Like the sea; high in a cloud
Said he to his other fellows there
Let us go forth into the air

For far below us there is found
A place that is called “common ground”
Where dreams are dreamed and hearts are free
As teaming waves upon the sea

There we shall find peace and love
That can't be won here, high above
These are things worth dying for
Thus, the raindrops went to war

And so the army of the rain
Sent forth a billion to the plain
All brave soldiers to the last
With lightning flash and cannon blast

There they stormed the gates of earth
As heaven heaved with giving birth
To children like a tadpole throng
A mighty wind blew them along

Until at last they came and found
A billion graves upon the ground
Herein were buried bones of men
Who dreamed of heaven to ascend

Said they to each of noble birth
Heaven is preferred to earth
And many a mother of soldier cried
As men of valor in battle died

Who dreamed of heaven high above;
A place of lasting peace and love
And for that heaven blood was shed
To touch clouds the rain had fled

But if the rain had not come down
Nothing would grow upon the ground
No life would find the secret door;
No waves would roll upon the shore

And if mankind did not aspire
To brave the storm; thunder and fire
For peace and love, it is a given
They must forfeit all hope of heaven

Every Now and Then

Every now and then I dream
That I'm seabird sailing gracefully
Among the snowy clouds so high
My fingers; feathers in the clear blue sky

Every now and then I think
It doesn't matter if I move my wings
I can soar and I can glide
And I'm so happy just to be alive

Every now and then


Every now and then I'm free
With no shackles and no chains on me
Running through the fields so green
And all the flowers bursting just for me

Every now and then I pray
That I can stay here for another day
Please don't tune me out; turn me away
God, I'm asking that You hear my prayer and care

Every now and then

Every now and then I sigh
I grow weary as years go by
I'm afraid to sleep for I fear I'll dream
Of all my loved ones lost; what might have been

Every now and then I cry
I forget that I have wings to fly
I feel my heart must surely break
I wonder how much more my heart can take


Every now and then

Every now and then I smile
When I hold a puppy; kiss a child
I remember then that this life goes on
And it sends my spirit back where it belongs

I'm a seabird sailing gracefully
Come and fly with me
We can both be free
Every now and then

The Concert

In smoky shadows a pianist plays; gray fedora perched and tilted like an expectant bird atop his brow.
He remembers the jazz but lives the blues and wonders where the girls of summers past are now.
Man was not made to make music alone or sit in confines of crowded bars.
He must taste fresh air and study the sea and go out walking among the stars.

With arthritic hands the guitarist weeps for tunes forgotten or never learned.
Staring silently into embers that glow and fade once the hardwood of life has burned.
His heart, still fresh with music and love; his mind full of beauty and wonder.
He looks to heaven and seeing clouds, is reminded how softness can thunder.

There was a time when they played together with words and women and wine.
The music seemed to last forever like a symphony of something dreamed and divine.
Time befalls the best composer. Words to the aria fade in the mist.
Jazz becomes blues and blue memories warm like a love lost; remembered by a single kiss.

The Sun Does Not Mourn

The sun does not mourn the coming of night
The world must turn but the sun is constant and bright
The moon bears no jealousy or grudge to the sun
But mirrors his brilliance until night is done

Some poets have said the moon rules the night
But she is only reflecting a great star's light
And those drinking shadows upon the earth hath
But fell to darkness by blocking his path

They say in their vanity, “the sun has set”
When in fact they have turned away and yet
The sun does not mourn the coming of night
But waits a new morning to bring his light

Epitaph

I wrote the sky both red and blue
Sunset, sunrise; midnight hours too
I wrote the sun, the moon and stars
Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars

My lines proofread and well rehearsed
From galaxies to universe
I wrote the clouds. I wrote the rain.
I wrote typhoon and hurricane.

I brought words of mine together
In open fields beneath the weather
The heat beat down on desserts bare
Sailors drowned in oceans there

I wrote for you both lands and seas
I wrote sand dunes and forest trees
I wrote the mountain white with snow
I penned the valleys far below

I wrote the creatures; great and small
The elephant, the ant and all
The whale with krill on his dinner dish
The shimmering spineless jellyfish

I wrote the songs and moods of men
Joys and hopes and dreams again
I wrote of love both cruel and fair
I wrote the darkness of despair

I wrote of wealth and trust and loss
I wrote the price and paid the cost
And every time the caged bird sings
His heart within him finds his wings

You and I have traveled far
The journey brought us where we are
I wrote the diary of a life
In blood; my pen like a razor knife

To write has been my destiny
I've given all the best of me
And whether you will cry or laugh
When you read my epitaph

Markers

A withered leaf of winter twisted dry and brown in summer wind.
Raindrops pelted fragile skin; shaking and breaking the clinging stem.
And it twirled to the ground midst thunder and lightning unseen.
There, the skeleton of winter past; crumpled; dead upon the green.

Outside a tiny house with all the windows lit at four; coyotes howl.
Sirens scream through the early hours before traffic starts to prowl.
The inhabitant, settled like dust on window sills into his nook,
waits the first bird song wrapped in perfume of ancient books.

Transient markers of seasons passed are wrinkles in the brow;
falling leaves that with the breeze take flight again somehow.
Barely noticed on the lawn when summer has raised the fields
And heat has choked the yellow spring from cups of daffodils

A Summer Night

Lights flicker on like fireflies at dusk
Sun sets and settles in brick dust evening
A red haze fades into grey and then night
I count windows and streets by their lights

There’s romance in the warm summer air
Stars are playing hide and seek in the clouds
Distant traffic drone overpowered by a cricket’s chirp
Honeysuckle drifts with Carolina jasmine

A night like this was meant for lovers
It brings an old man wistful memories
Somewhere cars are parked on lover’s lane
Couples cuddled will wake to early rain

I can see heat lightning in the distant sky
I never hear the thunder though I listen for awhile
Just a barking dog and coyotes at play
Sounds of night are drowned by day

It’s pensive but sweet; this melancholy night
Stirring the mind and heart with warm fingers
Like perfume on a pillow when a lover has left
I am satisfied now but desire still lingers

Softly, softly, almost imperceptible
The music fades into a gentle quiet
Sighs of longing are replaced by yawning
And I drift to dream in the summer night

Ghost Town

My heart is abandoned in a ghost town where lost dreamers meet
Neglected shutters rattle in the wind at the end of an empty street
Dust blows where nothing grows. Sadness howls within.
Crumbling remains stare from the hollow eyes of dirty windows

Where the fire played in the heat of day and burning desire lived
Now the desert night has descended with cold and loneliness
A flying scrap of paper tumbles; end over ragged end
A page torn from a life that is over; now tossed by the wayward wind

And in the vast dark emptiness I hear the echo of a human voice
But it is only a shadow and shade; this echo; a phantom of a noise
Speaking the syllables of a name that now rest carved in stone
Above the grave of a soulless man in this ghost town so alone

Beneath the name on the marble marker reads this epitaph
“With no tears left to cry in vain love has refused to laugh”
And when the laughter of life had died so did the poet’s heart
And the whiskey boomtown with its music dwindled to a spark

Soon the spark extinguished from the hearth and grate
Knew only cold instead of warmth where love came much too late
Seeking the remains of a bustling home; full of life and cheer
But no one came to answer the door at the vacant house so drear

My heart is an empty building of unswept floors and dust
Like rotting barns of ancient farms where dreams grew tall and lush
Beneath the wilderness skies once blue; beneath the dying sun
Dark shadows play at the end of day and now the night has come

The Water

Where the bright bow meets the sky
And rivers meet the sea
Where raindrops dance in puddles
Is where my voice will be

Where ocean waves are rolling
And my falling roars
From the cliffs and canyons
Onto the sandy shores

Where the lightning rips the cloud
And tears the sky asunder
Clothed in dark and misty shroud
Amidst exploding thunder

Where the dew has settled
On green fields of grass
And shimmering flower petals
To wash the feet that pass

In the lake reflecting bright
The winter’s golden sun
Or last red rays of dying light
When summer’s day is done

In the quenching of a thirst
Or tears that cleanse the eyes
Mixed with blood in every birth
To life and faith baptized

In the blood and spirit
I ever must remain
And ever be there near it
In all your joy and pain

Where the pitcher has its lip
And bottle has its spout
There my liquid life shall drip
Until my life runs out

Then, in burning desert sand
The living things must dry
They are given by my hand
But to dust they turn and die

Sometimes I Laugh in the Rain

Sometimes I laugh in the rain
Kicking through puddles of youth
Squishy mud between my toes
And trouser legs rolled

I often dream at night
Alone in my bed
And there is sublime joy
From which I regret to wake

I have cried in the dawn
And in the bright sunshine
Dressed in a suit
By my mother’s grave

Things are not always
People are not always
The world is not always
As it appears

A cloudy sky may pass
Grey and threatening
But it may have brought
With it, tears of joy

The sun both bright and warm
Can fail to heal
The coldest moment of our heart
Or light a darkened corner of the soul

Winter can make us appreciate
The fires of friendship
Spring can remind us
Of flowers upon a grave

The green of summer shade
Can bear with it, shadow
And autumn death
Can bring dazzling beauty

There are many seasons
Both of the mind and heart
There are all kinds of weather
And even solar storms

I want you near
If only to hold my hand
No matter whether I smile or frown
Because I need your love

Hearts needs understanding
Every season
Through all kinds of weather
Whether in joy or pain

Perhaps they’re lost in memory
Or found in the here and now
The why not needing to be explained
Sometimes I laugh in the rain

Old Age, Death and the Poet

Mornings come unsolicited; peeling away the comforting edges of night
Secret vistas my mind had visited hang surreal in dreamy lingering light
Outside, cold clouds drift the blue; covering my dreams in shades of gray;
Blanketing sorrows with somber hue; hopes of tomorrow with cruel today

The spring of eternal hope has stopped; plugged with rocks of insecurity;
Fallen from vast walls around my heart where time and death are surety
The hoary frost upon the land has settled into my thinning hair and beard
Things I know and understand have become instruments of pain and fear

Cummings said, “Old age sticks”. Shakespeare asked, “What dreams may come?”
Is that it then? Do we cease living; fathoming depths of death; grown numb?
I am left with the love song of Eliot sitting by the crash of stormy seas
Feeling I am but a pair of ragged claws. The mermaids will not sing for me.

Distant hills are beckoning; draped in purple gowns and egret feather hats
Where once I roamed; a boy and his dog, why do I choose to remember that?
What is happiness but peace of mind? Is it also adventure into the unknown?
If that were so; death would be kind to frail and crippled flesh and bone.

Ms. Dickinson could not stop for death and so it kindly stopped for her
But now I count my hours left passing in passenger train-like blur
Stop for me I beckoned but rumbling along; it seems life passed me by
My voice fades in faltering echoes as my poetry and songs both die

Do not, I beg, expect from me; visions of eternity. I never met with God.
Shall I be saved; spared from the grave or sickening thud of falling clods?
The dead do not hear; so I might be spared the sound of devouring earth
I strive to recall those first sounds of arrival from the moment of my birth

Where does youth go? In truth, I do not know. But it can be captured by hearts
This life I am married to like a wife will soon divorce me as we part
Perhaps I will find my youth again in distant hills beyond the clouds
Will dreams return with life reborn or am I only dreaming now?

RAIN DANCE

My life has been a summer storm
My days were drops of rain
And from the moment I was born
Typhoon and hurricane

Love was just like lightning
While death was loud as thunder
Both of them were frightening
Filled with awe and wonder

Friends were gently passing clouds
Their sympathy let in the sun
And when the thunder grew too loud
Love lit the raindrops; every one

Days were sparkling downpours
While all my nights were deep
The water fall became a roar
That robbed me of my sleep

With lightning on my eyelids
I waited for the thunder
And everything that I did
Umbrellas hid me under

So hid from life and dispossessed
I never felt the pain
Until the flood within my breast
Released those drops of rain

Now I’ve learned to dance again
Amidst the storm and trouble
For if my days are drops of rain
My spirit floats: a bubble

Dream Catcher

I went fishing once in May
On a lovely springtime day
I took along a can of worms
A rod and reel and book of poems

I cast my line into the water
Passing time the sun grew hotter
Soon I sought the maple shade
With some sandwiches I’d made

So stretched out in my new nook
I opened up the poetry book
The fish that day refused to bite
I watched some children fly a kite

It is too windy, so I said
On maple then resting my head
There, so propped, began to read
Among the helicopter seed

A day had never seemed so short
As I read each brilliant poet
Soon I was so far from dawn
That I began to stretch and yawn

I fell asleep till evening time
Dreaming life was but a rhyme
As the fish are caught with hooks
So such thoughts by poetry books!

Wildness

When the dawn was young the wild geese took to wing
Soared above the stubble fields of harvest with their honking
Red tailed hawk exercising pirouettes below
Then soared on high pursued there by a pair of cawing crows

A herd of morning deer gathered at the forest edge
Alert and twitching nervous ears beneath the swaying umbrage
The icy touch of January drifted through the field
While thrifty field mice searched for seeds of morning meal

I walked along the fence line marking movement with a hound
Observing nature’s wonders and listening to the sounds
A far woodpecker tapping Morse code with his beak
A querulous squirrel still chattering complaints too harsh to speak

Things like this I live for, listening to the warnings
Of wild and secret creatures on my walks at morning
Long ago I was set apart from this noble band
But there is wildness in my heart although I am a man

Teardrop

Silent pear-shaped world of water;
Ocean of pain trapped in a drop
Sliding slow as frozen glaciers
Down the cheek to trickle stop

Saline bitter; sometimes sweet
Always salty as the sea
Where emotions mix and meet
From the hearts of you and me

Soothing balm to pain and fear
Sadness caught or rapture’s joy
All contained within the sphere
Encapsulated by this envoy

Messenger of pride and pain
From young child to dying old
They are drops of our heart rain
From the windows of our soul

Blood is life so oft is said
It goes unchallenged when we hear it
Clearer than the crimson red
Is the bearer of the spirit

Offering this wisdom now
For every heart and soul to hear
Sacred as the wedding vow
Is the shedding of a tear