The lack of fame

 my spirit free

 

A bird uncaged

 amongst the trees

 

Its weight not lifted

 and never there

 

My breath in sequence

  above the air

 

The lack of fame

 art’s greatest gift

 

My oath to no one

 allegiance kept

 

As thoughts go hither

 and feelings yon

 

My soul untempered

 —my words to song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Poetry…

 the most regal of all gifted language

 

Prose sitting as handmaiden

 —to each verse sublime

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Jumping in

  I shut both eyes

  my heart lay open wide

 

A first hello

 my last goodbye

 to logic ill applied

 

Choosing an entry

 frees all to move

 the first breath to a song

 

Getting out

 my mind rejects…

 forever pushing on

 

The ending shatters

 once breaking through

 as time cuts loose its grasp

 

That first step forward

 past my fear

   —a die forever cast

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

There was a time when I was worth knowing

 before the pain took over

 

There was a time with joy overflowing

 my wishes steeped in clover

 

There was a time you knew unfurled

 my love abounding free

 

There was a time when all the world

 —was made of you and me

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Does your good

 outweigh the bad

 

Is the balance

 happy or sad

 

Is your intention

 right or wrong

 

Does your prayer

 turn into song

 

Does the blame

 weigh down your heart

 

Can your light

 outshine the dark

 

Can the joy

 exceed the pain

 

Does one word

 your soul reclaim

 

Will His grace

 forgive your sins

 

Will new life or death

 —begin

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

I try to write poetry

 as Papa did prose

 

Each couplet in focus

 with short punches thrown

 

The verses compact

 no lines overrun

 

Their meaning eternal

 —to rise like the sun

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Facing what I didn’t know,

 the canyon ahead was wide

 

My bridge half built on doubt and fear

 with nowhere left to hide

 

Looking down I saw the past

 looking up all questions why

 

But straight ahead an Angel waits

 —with wings for me to fly

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Structure comes

 from the classroom

 

Imagery comes

 from experience

 

And it’s hard

 to structure

 

What you can’t

 —see

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

Divorcing the rational

 freedom began

 

Releasing the spirit

 all can’t—became can

 

One final decision

 to charge and break through

 

The future and past

  left betrothed—and untrue

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)

 

You can take the readers to the water,

 but you cannot make them drink

 

A thirst most carry deep inside

  can totter at the brink

 

You can lead them right up to the edge,

 but you’ll never make them jump

 

The choice is theirs, the Muses dare

   —as fear still primes the pump

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2018)