I asked for your blessing,

  instead you explained

 

What I should be paying

  to garner acclaim

 

You told me if only

  I’d do it this way

 

My words could have meaning

  and influence—sway

 

But power and fortune

  are not what I sought

 

If influence only

  gets brokered and bought

 

So the blessing passed over,

  no bribery done

 

A last vow to myself

  —from you I must run

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

My cup runneth over,

  your chalice half full

 

The emptiness suspect,

  both murky and dull

 

It shines on the outside,

  jewels christened with fire

 

But to drink from that potion

  —forever a liar

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

The Russians have taught me

  that nothing has changed

 

Instead of Nazis and Fascists,

  we have terrorists to blame

 

Whether Turgenev or Chekhov,

  Tolstoy or Marx

 

When our nature’s in play

  —much of life remains dark

 

(Wayne Pa.-Minella’s Diner: June, 2016)

 

Stop trying to be a poet,

  and say what you feel

 

Kill off the dilettante,

  both hands on the wheel

 

In front of the mirror,

  we all wear a crown

 

Will your verses be written

  —by a sage or a clown

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

Seeing better from a distance,

  than you ever could up close

 

The memories play like children,

   in voices that you spoke

 

The truth is where you find it,

   every season, every turn

 

Where space becomes entitled

  —your soul to file or to burn

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

 

Knowing, 

  not repeating

 

The weakness

  of all refrain

 

A first cut,

  true and deepest

 

Once healed

  —its scar remains

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

In my heart I knew little of

 the world and all its parts

 

As I drifted idle and wandered blind,

 through constant fits and starts

 

My mind reached out beyond its grasp,

 with the questions close behind

 

As time unfolded upon itself

 —each moment to define

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

Colors overtake me one by one,

 as they fuse within my mind

 

To paint their ancient messages,

 prismatic and sublime

 

The past is but enigma,

 tomorrow still a dream

 

This moment’s image all that lasts

 —in constancy redeemed

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

 

 

 

What is the difference

 between a fact and the truth

 

One limited in time,

 the other free and unproved

 

Language and formula,

 the great deceivers abound

 

As the light burns inside us

 —our hearts to impound

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)

When love commands

 —there’s precious time left to serve truth

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)