Thank You Lord

 Thank you for the poetry Lord,

  thank you for the verse

 

Thank you for the words that play

   and on my fields converse

 

Thank you for the feelings

  letting others join in song

 

But thank you most for reaching down

  —and guiding me along

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

     From ‘The Book Of Prayers’

Try To Be Smart

Stop trying to be clever,

  and try to be smart

 

The coyote said

  to the fox

 

The hunters are coming,

  the bounty’s been offered

 

Their traps are all baited

  and boxed

 

Stop trying to be clever,

  and try to be smart

 

The coyote to the fox  

  said again

 

There’s a reason your fur

  is always in season

 

And mine, never coated

   —or skinned

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)  

         ‘For My Grandchildren’

Borrowed Time

Today I turned seventy,

 and the clocks all faintly chimed

 

My hour glass near empty

 to mark the waning time

 

Weeks left on the calendar

 the moments more than days

 

With laughter most important now

 each memory through the haze

 

Today I turned seventy,

 and my dog he seemed to know

 

He whispered to my grandchildren,

 and their love began to flow

 

Bright sunshine through the window,

 but night is sure to come

 

The joy and pain of who I’ve been

 —to live on when I’m gone

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)

 

 

Left To Brew

The daylight hid from the nighttime

 like a rabbit from the fox

 

As the sun ran through my memory

 freeing moments that were locked

 

With twilight came a foretelling

 and its darkness swearing true

 

But a light still burns inside me

 —from a promise left to brew

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)

In Search Of My Own

I traveled from Essex

  to the kingdom of Wales

  in search of a family tree

 

And passing a cobbler

  I then was reminded

  what these shoes really mean to me

 

I’ve walked and I’ve walked

  and I’ve searched and I’ve searched,

  for a name more than mine on loan

 

And through leather worn thin

   these sparse clothes that I’m in

   will walk to China in search of my own

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

 

 

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)