The darker side of morning,

 the drier side of rain

 

A memory left forgetting

 —a spirit uncontained

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

Breaking through the titled ceiling,

 my voice survived unnamed

 

Unleashed to save the future past,

 with words their truth proclaimed

 

All time bereft of judgment,

 all feelings self contained

 

Diploma mailed but left unsigned

 —its seal in freedom stained

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

 

(An Anthology Of Perception Vol. 3)

“I write the first draft
and paint the second

“But the third
—I get to sing”

(Villanova Pennsylvania, 2016)

Can a phrase rule

  over a paragraph

 

Can the right word

  stand alone

 

Can a thought be held

  within one breath

 

Can the truth in short

  be known

 

Can you single out

  the future

 

Can you paraphrase

  the past

 

Can you release the hope

  inside a wish

 

Can you make this moment

  last

 

Can you keep the magic,

  its spell unbound

 

Can Apollo set you

  free

 

Can you say it while

  defying time

 

Can you voice your souls

  release

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

There are many futures

  —but only one past

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Never writing for the masses,

  just writing for you

 

One lone set of ears,

  to share life anew

 

Never writing for consensus,

  my words not for rent

 

To call through the ages

  —with a voice heaven sent

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

Delay success for as long

As you can…

Living up to an image

Will only cloud your judgment

Stealing what you can least

Afford to lose

Dragging you into the illusion

And myth

That could take a lifetime

To rail against

Dragging you into the

Vicarious trap

Of praise falsely given

 —and wasted dreams

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

Prose and Poetry

  came together

 

In a marriage of

  infusion

 

 —each wanting from the other

     what they could not bring

 

—each vowing to the other

    words they longed to sing

 

Birthing a new music

  of epic proportion

 

In an infant now timeless

  beyond simple refrain

 

—with a message for the ages

    wrapped in lyrical rhyme

 

—in a melody of sages

    defying space and time

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

The DNA of language

  is Poetry

 

The DNA of Poetry

  —is love

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

The flowers all have scattered,

  borrowed feelings cry out loud

 

Mock funeral of celebration,

  grief false beneath their shrouds

 

The mourning congregation,

  to the tavern marched in step

 

A ruse to the departed,

  with each toast his memory wept

 

His friends then hugged his enemies,

  his wife and girlfriend kissed

 

Through the glass a raven watches,

  taking names without a miss

 

A ‘last call’ shouted boldly,

  and all glasses drained of lies

 

As two wings beat out a roll call

  —death’s quota flying high

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)