The Treadmill

Slowing down the motor,

running low on gas

 

The lies, the HOV lane,

the truth off in the grass

 

The speed counterproductive,

it warps and then transforms

 

The magic in the stillness,

the beauty heaven born

 

The light becomes a blurring,

as darkness settles in

 

Till stepping off the madness,

and travelling within

 

That fatal rush to judgment,

a quiet now sustains

 

One choice to stop the treadmill

—all motion rearranged

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Heaven Its To Roam

To live life as a Poet,

to slay the demon time

 

Your spirit freed with every verse,

in meter and in rhyme

 

To reach beyond your passion,

to say what others feel

 

To bring tomorrow home today,

the devils wrath to reel

 

To wander past your memory,

returning once again

 

Each word a ticket through the gate,

its path relined with friends

 

Their faces each and every one,

a title to a poem

 

That left your hand so long ago

—with heaven its to roam

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Only To Remind

You’ve got the how but not the why,

from heaven so ordained

 

For that one moment under God,

times fugitive proclaimed

 

You want to know the reasons past,

but not those left to find

 

A crown of thorns and peasant robe

—serve only to remind

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)