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)
Bubblewrapped children
disparate hope
Spirits in limbo
shortest of ropes
Control and protection
their meaning belies
Tomorrow ill promised
—eternity cries
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
Hiding within the rhyme
lies a melody of pronouncement
lifting the words up off the page
Its liberation spoken freely
within times expanding moment
giving and taking—beginning to end
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2019)
The delivery,
incidental to the message
The format,
duly chosen for the sound
The listener,
singled out with times forgiveness
The truth
—but spoken once to then abound
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
There’s a zone beyond safety
where the timid can’t go
Beyond reasoned decision
intuition to flow
Past valor and triumph
past glory and fame
There’s a zone beyond safety
—last moth to the flame
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
Like a blanket or quilt,
the Muse wraps me in consciousness
Sealing me in with her warmth
each night rejecting the cold
Like a filter or screen,
the Muse tempers all consequence
Under her protection and safety
—words sleeping untold
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
I’ve forever written
as myself
Few influences will
show
Neither Hemingway nor
Faulkner
Not Melville or
Thoreau
But as one who saw through
all of that
With so much more
to know
I search the land
and stars above
For ink
—my pen to flow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
My words the result
of the times I’ve lived
not a classroom exercise
My feelings all paid
with the blood of my fears
not a rambling diatribe
My trail has been lined
with each tear and misstep
to mark the way ahead
My life a memory
telling a tale
—whose direction my soul has led
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2018)
No time set aside
The words reformed
Again at their own pace
No place to reside
They’re written down
On a napkin or empty space
When I try to hide
They find me sure
In mountain or in plain
As new moments chide
The past adieu
—and thunder turns to rain
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
New blood will flow
and breath exhale
—as my steps go far and wide
With verse out front
to lead the way
—to that promised other side
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
