We come as passing visitors on the rimrock of this vast abyss,
awed by ancient desert rocks with ever-changing hues.
We marvel at these stones laid down in tepid seas
before the dawn bird flew,
grandeur timeless, yet so transient.

A raven races up from the canyon with joyful croak,
like a goblin fresh on vacation from his work in Hell.
He arcs above, then plunges deep into the chasm
with...

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There's a big iron bell on the roof of the barn
that is used to call men from wherever they are:
from the fields, from mending the fences
from tending the cows in distant pastures.

There's a boy who likes adventure,
to find interesting places and things.
He likes to explore different places alone,
to go wherever he will near home.

Call him home from the forest, farm bell.
Call him bac...

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It's September of forty-five. 
We remember the dark months 
when France was overrun and England stood alone 
against the force of Nazi armies.
Soon Germany attacked Russia. 

Then Japan committed a tactical triumph 
and a strategic blunder: they attacked Pearl Harbor.
Our ocean fortress had been breached.
That Day in Infamy galvanized the nation; 
to win, no matter what the cost.

Two ...

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It's May 8,  nineteen forty-five, 
What a happy, giddy, glorious time, 
with the end of the war in Europe 
and peace around the corner! 
The war years are a blur of memories.

We remember the dark days, bleak months
when France was overrun and England stood alone 
against the onslaught of Nazi oppression, 
with the miracle of Dunkirk and the Battle of Britain.
Soon Germany attacked Russi...

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Oh how I loved to go camping 
in a tent in the back yard,
in the campgrounds of the Smokies, 
on the coast of Nova Scotia, 
with the Dories in Grand Canyon, 
in the Everglades of Florida,
wherever the places may be. 

Each trip was different, with its own adventures 
that brought a kaleidoscope of images,
a patchwork of memories.
each memory vivid and distinct,
of different times and p...

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It’s hot as the hinges of Hell, they say. 
Maybe so, but I’ve never been there.
Yet.
Those hinges must be made 
of very hard stuff not to melt.

Best not to sweat in this heat. 
Water on Hell’s hinges would turn to steam.
and scald us like boiled owls.

But we’re tough old birds too.
We’ll sweat it out and try not to drip on the hinges.

        July, 2010 (A record hot summer

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Here we are, alone by the sea, 
bursting with joy at finding each other. 
There’s a wonderful, giddy feeling, 
as if all nature were smiling. 

The diamond on your finger gleams 
like the shining path 
of the sunrise on the water.
Our wedding bands were forged 
from family rings and new gold. 
They join us and our families 
in the ancient, unbroken circle of life.

We are like the pla...

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I might use poetic license, 
write stories and invent details,
tell tall tales, speak in parables, 
exaggerate, embellish, 
embroider, enlarge upon 
or summarize and minimize.

I could write memoirs 
about my illustrious, 
impeccable career. 

I could cite statistics 
to prove a point, 
maybe fudge the numbers.

I could hide information, omit details, 
deny any knowledge 
and glos...

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Honey Boy was a wonderful cat.  
Honey- orange in color, 
he loved to stay home 
and play with the children, 
frolic with our beagle 
or purr on our laps.

Sometimes he stayed out late 
for nighttime romances, 
but he always came home 
eager for food and a cozy bed.  

Over the years he mellowed 
with a touch of grey here and there. 
He left on a summer night 
and never returned for...

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I remember playing in a hayloft 
with older boys, daring to jump like they did.  
I tunneled alone through hay and darkness, 
to find light at the other end. 

As my memory goes back to those carefree times, 
I wonder if I tried to impress older boys 
as if they were my father.
Was I trying to outdo my brothers?
Was there a sexual element 
in body sensations in free fall in hay?  
Was b...

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Wave after wave of grief washed over me,
sadness so profound 
the world seemed desolate and forlorn,
like being exposed to the stinging rain 
and blistering wind
on wave crests at the height of a storm

Between bleak crests were moments
of consolation offered by caring friends, 
or comforting memories,
perhaps a joke to soften the pain, 
like valleys between waves 
give some respite 
...

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I dream of Jeanie with the light brown hair. *
She’s so sweet and loving.

I’m good looking for a man of my age,
with handsome gray hair – what there is of it – 
that girls like to pat like they pat a pet dog.
I can’t wag my tail like a dog, 
but I can flash a sweet smile.

My wrinkles portray character 
and the wisdom that comes with age.
Skin cancers between wrinkles 
betray my time ...

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I’ve told you so many times,
“I love you so much.
I’m so glad I found you.”
What else is there to say?

June 2012

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For weeks I savored time with you, 
wanted to be with you always.
I never asked: “Will you marry me?”
Instead, I asked 
when can we wed? 
You answered “As soon as we can.”
I left your apartment giddy with joy.

It was a cold New England winter. 
I got cold feet as I drove to my lonely room. 
What had I done! 
Had I been impulsive?
Was this a doomed infatuation 
with a new girl who had...

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She chatters on and on, 
skittering from trivia to trivia.
She can’t stand silence for an instant, 
and doesn’t leave space for others.
Her tongue seems attached in the middle 
to keep it from falling out as 
both ends keep flapping.
Words pour out in abundant confusion.
Mangled metaphors and clichés fly by.
No thoughts interrupt her talk.

I feel drowned in irrelevant words.
My though...

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This old Earth has taken another spin around the Sun. (1)
The Solar System continues its endless circle in the Milky Way. (2)
Andromeda has come closer (3) 
as the Milky Way hurtles toward the Great Attractor (4)

Welcome to another year, another turn around Old Sol,
as we wobble through familiar yet unknown deep space 
and spend more time with the music of the spheres
that resounds silent...

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Many years ago I met a lovely girl. 
She was fun to talk with about most anything
We walked through woods 
and climbed some hills together, 
She made lunch for picnics that we shared.

We walked on beaches, felt the crunch 
of wet sand underfoot,  
listened to seagulls and ocean waves, 
and felt the caress of sea breezes.
We gathered shells with no place to keep them.

We were caught i...

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Once there was a tree frog, green as green can be.  
He liked to sing on summer nights whenever it was wet.
His voice seemed much too loud for such a little frog. 
He spent his day seeking juicy bugs to eat; 
with his clever tongue he quickly found a meal. 

One October he was looking for adventure.
He climbed a large camellia bush 
and found a tiny opening in a window screen.  
He climbe...

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(as seen by an untutored infidel)

Wine tasters, aficionados and critics wax ecstatic
over the wonderful essence of wines, 
comparing and contrasting with fine distinctions,  
discussing the terroir needed for each variety of grape,
best sources and vineyards, 
best vintage years for each wine and region,  
best methods and sequence of storage,  
best temperatures and timing of serving, 
...

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Belgium was beastly cold in December of ’44.  
Deep snow covered frozen ground as 
shattered forests crackled and groaned 
under the weight of ice. 
We barely felt our feet, 
even when we tried to warm them.
Frostbite was a constant threat.
The air was still; there was no wind.  
Dense clouds covered the sky
and snowfall lent a misty haze 
like falling fog. 

We hoped for a quick end t...

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The news told of a distant menace headed our way, 
that might overwhelm our world, 
like the Spanish flu a century ago 
or the plagues of the Middle Ages. 
They said it was implacable, sure to wreak havoc soon. 

It was like a monstrous hurricane far in the distance, 
threatening everything in its path. 
It was a virus called Corona, a crown of thorns.

They say that, like a zombie, it i...

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How can I tell you that I love you?
I've said the words so many times; it's old hat to you.
I could quote Browning's poem of how she loved.
I'd say it's mine and mean every metaphor,
but you'd know she wrote it and you'd quote it.

I can write love poems just for you,
and every word I write is true, 
though I'm not adept with metaphors 
and don't use fancy words. 

I can bring valentine...

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We come as passing visitors on the rimrock of this vast abyss,
awed by ancient desert rocks with ever-changing hues.
We marvel at these stones laid down in tepid seas
before the dawn bird flew,
grandeur timeless, yet so transient.

A raven races up from the canyon with joyful croak,
like a goblin fresh on vacation from his work in Hell.
He arcs above, then plunges deep into the chasm
with...

Read and leave comments (1)