A strange thing happens
once you’re as old as your heroes
The mystery less enchanting
the romance nearly gone
A stranger thing happens
when you outlive your heroes
The nuances shouting boldly
—permission now won
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
A strange thing happens
once you’re as old as your heroes
The mystery less enchanting
the romance nearly gone
A stranger thing happens
when you outlive your heroes
The nuances shouting boldly
—permission now won
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The only sin uncommitted
—is the one unknown
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
His funeral
unattended
His pallbearers
—the written word
His gravesite
an ashen memory
His legacy
—in futures heard
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Are you the hero of your own
dime novel
Are you the toy at the bottom
of the cracker jacks box
Are you the name on the wall
of the public bathroom
Are you the saline solution
they use to detox
Are you that groove in the record
that repeats over again
Are you a promise forgotten
carried off by a friend
Are you a serial spectator
whose ticket’s not punched
Are you a banquet disaster
in search of your lunch
Is your mirrored reflection
left empty and cold
Is the one option left you
—forlorn but foretold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
The warts are ugly
the wrinkles deep
The flesh now sagging
deprived of sleep
The eyesight failing
the hearing gone
But words still call
—from tomorrow’s song
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Not like her,
And
Not like him,
And
Not like you
—I write!
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Today a Poet needs to cast
a hook with many tines
To reel in those who’re lulled to sleep
with cautionary lines
These days a Poet needs an edge
much sharper than before
To cut through all the excess flesh
—that blocks the metaphor
(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)
My window opens wider
as my focus narrows down
The words are now much richer
than what I used to think profound
The light brings joy and substance
filling corners deep and closed
Its breezes tinged with lilac
—all negatives exposed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Left on their own,
my words turn to prayer
Renewing my faith
—confirming You’re there
Spoken aloud,
they lodge in my soul
Warming my heart
—and keeping me whole
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
The answer never welcome…
‘The Price Of Joy Is Pain’
A question forever mired
—in perpetual disdain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)