An abundance of denial,

  your mind turns away

What spirit embraces,

  choice hides and delays

        “The dignity of the old man

           in worn tattered clothes 

         Frayed pants covering high

           button shoes, but not toes

       “He wanders among us

           just over the line

        As eyes fail to see

          what souls hope to find”

An elegance to rival

  your white tie and tails

Where life now stripped free

  of false richness—prevails

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Nocturnal flower

In need of sleep

Your petals wilt

The count for sheep

New dawn unpromised

The die is cast

A croupier blocking

Sun’s setting mask

Through endless courtship

Dreams on the run

A jester whispers

Till sleep has come

The meadow sparse

Its reaper gone

New light unspoken

  —your buds in song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

If you think it’s just one thing

  while believing it’s not

Or you hope it’s another,

  then folly’s your lot

If you swear it sits outside,

  as you dream from within

All meaning encrypts

  —and your eyes close again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

A chorus of enlightenment….

  she’s woken up again

With sheets still warm, my heart she bathes,

  ablution wet within

Through steam I see her message clear,

  the mirror does confirm

My words now washed, fresh thoughts to dry

  —new melody to learn

(Court At KOP: February, 2016)

I always felt

  when it was time to die

The Muse would know

  before you or I

The hours borrowed,

  the moments loaned

Return to feelings

 and verse unflown

With eyes never clearer,

  or heart so bold

I make my exit

  —with words untold

(Schuylkill Expressway: February, 2016)

The Muse continues to punish me,

  whenever I write prose

Her slaps severe with pain heartfelt

  —no fury ‘hell hath known’

She sentences me to endless nights,

  and days when words won’t come

Until I succumb to writing verse

 —and she, my breath becomes

(The Court at K.O.P: February, 2016)

The string is broken,

  the past is lost

A road forgotten

 —fresh winter’s frost

All memory erases,

 new thoughts to spin

The distance thawing

 —another Spring

(Court At KOP: February, 2016)

Do you have that place,

  that place where you hide

So tranquil and peaceful,

  and hidden from eyes

Do you have that place,

  looming close but concealed

Where your essence rests freely

  —where your soul can congeal

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Dreams carry me across

  a mysterious land

Where the voice of my fathers

  so gently commands

It echoes now softly,

  in words only sung

A joyous recital,

  rewoven and spun

I never can stay there,

  I’ve begged till I weep

And with barely a whisper,

  I’m roused from my sleep

But when darkness befalls

  on my world once again

A new dream will come calling

  —to guide me within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)

Broken feelings

My chest of gold

A ransom of torment

No trinkets sold

The treasure bounteous

Walls lined with blood

Its hurt and pain

I have withstood

The jewels lack sparkle

But shimmer deep

Their cut and clarity

My soul to keep

And words if cheapened

Must leave this throne

As the lid reopens

 —on the pain I own

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2016)