Category: Uncategorized

Will The Present Forget

On which side of the authority line

  do you fall…

 

      The pulpit,

      The assembly line,

      The suite down the hall

 

Who makes the decisions,

  do you stand—do you kneel

 

Is it giving or receiving,

 do you take—do you steal

 

How many horizons,

  do your dreams fall behind

 

Are they distant—uncertain,

  not in view to remind

 

Where your memories lie,

  are your promises kept

 

Is the past now your future

  —will the present forget

 

 

          (Abbreviated)

 

    

    Are Promises Kept

 

Where your memories lie,

  are your promises kept

 

Is the past now your future

  —will the present forget

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Spirit’s Behest

Do you demand my lies,

 instead of the truth

 

Do you hem and sigh,

 or stammer uncouth

 

Does the word unfiltered,

 get trapped in your brain

 

Does the message uncovered,

  wash down your drain

 

Does the time spent looking,

 measure time well spent

 

Does the verbal unlocking,

  pay your spiritual rent

 

Are the memories you wished for,

   in the time you invest

 

Are the feelings you hoped for

  —at your spirit’s behest

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Our Choices

Your say download

I say upload

Diametrically opposed

 

I look up

While you look down

The truth now juxtaposed

 

I step forward

You step back

Our choices thusly shown

 

I remember

You forget

  —the difference mine to know

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Stars

Is it a memory that pushes

  the future away

 

As wishes embody our souls

 

Is it a promise that opens

  and closes our hearts

 

All hope to then console

 

Is it a longing that reigns

  over friendship now lost

 

Of times once sorely blest

 

Is it the searching for love

  and the choice to believe

 

The stars at our behest

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2019)

When The Fates Allow

I don’t write sonnets,

 or limerick verse

 

I don’t write haiku,

 though often terse

 

I don’t write ballads,

 or Horatian odes

 

I don’t write parables,

 to self-implode

 

But I do write in rhythm,

 and often in rhyme

 

With meaning that’s buried,

 and metered in time

 

All verbal indenture,

 I must disavow

 

For the meaning to rise

 —when the fates do allow

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)