A Motorcycle & Leather Bag

A motorcycle and leather bag,

life seemed so perfect then


When everything I cared about…

my backseat was for them


The world was such a smaller place,

ideas grandiose


To wander aimlessly I did,

and never be morose


The road became my staunchest friend,

new places passing by


Those girls I met, the love I spent,

the promise in their eyes


That special place my memory held,

for years now time sets free


A motorcycle—a leather bag,

and all that was to be


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Abandoned And Gone

We’ve popularized everything,

from the classic to the crass


In doing so, we’ve lost ourselves,

neck deep in the morass


If everything is AOK,

then what the hell is wrong


Those standards that we’ve built upon

—abandoned and now gone


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

The Warrior Poet

Deadly to his enemies,

confusing to his friends


While faithful to his writing,

—all justified intent


Furious in times of war,

in peace his vision burns


But past the fray inside his verse,

a gentler spirit yearns


Salvation long then sacrificed,

a fate he can’t deny


A cross that’s left for him to bear,

but still his spirit cries


Through battles mostly devil sent,

and victories sealed with death


This guilt the price he’s had to pay,

now felt with every breath


One wish at last he prays out loud,

one cry is sent above


“My spear, my pen, my will to live

I trade all back for love”


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Baptized There

My life a poem, forego the count,

that comes in threes and fours


The space between to catch new breath,

that time may now allure


These moments gifted more than once,

constant in their prayer


Whose vow will cast the river wide

—new words to baptize there


(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

The Past Reclaimed

I didn’t know it at the time,

but my misspent youth was planned


The training ground for what I’d write,

then hard to understand


The many schools, the teachers chides,

expulsions my reward


Postgraduate work for future truth,

all voices untoward


The risks were high, survival mined,

Shangi-La, a vagrant’s room


My pen disclaimed, all actions shamed,

flat broke one afternoon


From the diner’s window I heard the song

that turned my life around


As Gregg Allman sang ‘Melissa,’

my true destiny was found


And today I harbor no regrets,

there’s no one left to blame


As I write the words for me hard one

—my sinful past reclaimed


(Strafford Pennsylvania: July, 2019)

‘Thank You, Gregg—I Miss You’