Killing The Past

I knew you were coming,

  as I walked across the cell

  still in chains

 

I knew you were crying,

  as the guard called out three times

  announcing your name

 

Your silence was deafening,

  as my final meal

  was delivered at last

 

The time intensifying,

  the markings on the wall

   —killing the past

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

The Angels Dance

Speaking to not one

  but the multitudes,

  the prophet bowed his head

 

And blessed within his servitude,

  the poor and hungry

  were given bread

 

Starting again

  his eyes looked up,

  and through a plain white cloth he bled

 

While standing in the place

  his father had,

  and repeating those words he said…

 

    “Don’t worship me,

      Redeem yourself,

      Divinity, yours at hand

 

     “Wash their feet,

       And free your mind,

       Bring peace throughout the land

 

     “Thank not one,

       But all you meet

       For a soul no longer wracked

 

     “And with each new breath 

       The Angels dance

         —salvation looking back”

 

     (Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

 

Look To The Harbor

I sat on the rocks

By the New Bedford docks

And waited for his boat to return

 

But the sun went to hiding

Bringing ever bad tidings

And a sea where last lessons are learned

 

My time spent in vain

For not even a plane

Could find a boat headed out of that storm

 

As the sea roiled upward

My hopes were dragged under

Which my soul was to curse and then scorn

 

And the streets emptied out

Churches packed and devout

As the old ones did swear and rebuke

 

The women all cried

With new legends reprised

As the Parson read words in tribute

 

Till at the church by the dock

From whence he had left

From its window I yelled through the tears…

 

“Look to the harbor this night,

  the mourning over, I sight: 

     —My Daddy’s Gaff Schooner is here”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

The Dog & The Kitty

The Doggie was white,

  and the Kitty was black,

  as they crouched at each end of the floor

 

Their eyes never met,

  because the rules were set,

  that the dog would chase the cat as before

 

At night came the darkness,

  and the Kitty stood up

  and headed right straight to the door

 

But the Doggie just lay there with his head

  on his paws, and thought:

  “Tonight—is quite different for sure”

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 ‘For Kiley, Hunter, Braden & Parker

 My Grandchildren

 

 

 

 

Seraph’s Delight

There’s a voice deep inside me

  still trying to get out

 

Ignoring my pleadings,

  it screams and it shouts

 

Its call is the loudest

  on those darkest of nights

 

When my mind seeks new refuge

  from Seraph’s delight

 

I toss and I turn,

  but it speaks louder still

 

As its words start to age

  from new vision distilled

 

No barter or denial

  will turn back its call

 

The Muse is on fire

  —my pen not to stall

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

 

New Life

Escaping into verse,

  the base of the castle rumbled,

  the ground beneath was shaken

  with new cracks inside its walls

 

Escaping into verse,

  all towering deception crumbled,

  as the self-anointed jumped and fell

  landing prostrate and so small

 

Escaping into verse,

  the mime shouted out enabled,

  his silent thunder raining down

  with a message now to scald

 

Escaping into verse,

  a new steeple built and gabled

  its bell to ring a lyric toll  

    —new life to those recalled

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)