The mouthpiece of ignorance

is gossip

 

The wellspring of gossip

—is lies

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2019)

Losing all faith

in miracles

 

His wishes went to

live astray

 

Where hope becomes a

distant cry

 

Lost memories

—in the wind

 

(Dreamsleep: September, 2019)

 

 

 

 

Bogged down in the details,

truth is undone

 

Swimming through the corn flakes,

milk overruns

 

Looking at the forest,

seeing just trees

 

Life micromanaged

—big picture tease

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

As a writer,

I create my own freedom

 

And as a writer,

I invent my own friends

 

As a writer,

I espouse my own truth

 

And as a writer,

my will never bends

 

As a writer,

I travel the world

 

And as a writer,

that journey’s within

 

As a writer,

I dive for more pearls

 

And as a writer,

each moment begins

 

As a writer,

the moon rises at dawn

 

And as a writer,

the sun burns through the night

 

As a writer,

my words play immortal

 

And as a writer

—all heaven in sight

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Each Poem wrought,

another day of

freedom bought

 

Each verse proclaimed,

one more abandoned

night renamed

 

Each line unleashed,

new light is shown,

old shadows hide

 

Each word I speak,

my soul elektric

—truth alive

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

A stitch past nine on borrowed time,

 memories come rushing back

 

The Wolf is feasting in Grandma’s bed,

Red Riding Hood a snack

 

A Cow gets ready to jump again,

but the moon drops from the sky

 

Humpty Dumpty a mess on the floor,

Tweedle-dum starts to cry

 

The candle burns for Jack’s last jump,

a quickening funeral pyre

 

The stepmother screams, Cinderella hides,

her daughter’s dress on fire

 

Little Jack Horner abandons his corner,

curds harden and whey runs aground

 

As Mother Goose watches the Grimm Brothers die

—not a child in sight to be found

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Like leaves in the wind,

words scatter about

 

From the woods and high grass,

they call and they shout

 

“Come find us, come free us,

we’re out here alone

 

“The Muse has deserted

—and left us disowned”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

Stricken with blame,

enamored by praise

 

My words caught between

—to travel both ways

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

The vision intrudes,

stealing ink from my pen

 

A thief in the night,

leaving words that portend

 

A warning’s been given,

its mantle thrown down

 

But truth will write over

—what darkness avows

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania:  April, 2017)

To change the way you act

—change the way you think

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)