Turning his eyes inward
his heart let out a sigh
And then with one last fleeting glance
he bid the past goodbye
What’s gone left undetermined
the future not to be
The moment praying faithfully
and down on bended knee
His garden burns autumnal
with colors rich and brown
A robin sings—last plant begins
seeded wishes in the ground
And then a North wind calls him
its voice so plain and clear
Those things undone best left to Him
—with winter oh so near
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Never trying to cheat the reader,
my words stay plain and few
The road direct, horizon vast,
as truth comes into view
Each word unclaimed, a promise kept,
the wait your reasoned choice
To breathe the future from the past
—this present freshly voiced
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
My head is neatly organized
my heart on fire again
Thoughts escaping, love unleashed
emotion teared and stained
All conflict over—fate in charge
direction hard and fast
As Venus leads beyond the sun
Apollo in the past
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
‘Yesterday was always better’
a convenience of the past
A place to store what got away
those things that didn’t last
‘Tomorrow may be better again’
as we hope against the tide
While the present slips away unseen
—its gift false time belies
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Aging like wine,
the phrases they flow
Their vintage in rhyme
—forever to know
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Where do dreams go
once you’ve dreamt them
Where do feelings go
once you’ve felt them
Where does pain go
once you’ve suffered it all
Where do memories go
—once you’re gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2015)
A walking contradiction
like all those who bleed
‘My heart headed one way
my mind in the lead’
‘My mind headed one way
my heart in the lead’
A tale of two visions
—the truth in between
(Train From White River Junction: March, 2018)
Deception wears many faces
—the truth but one
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2015)
Art….
immortality’s window
—to open or close
(Grantham New Hampshire: March, 2018)
There’s a wildness to a city
that wilderness doesn’t have
In closeness—an isolation
as tenants stalk their paths
The repetition of wanton avarice
pits dog and dog upon dog
The knife edge of the skyscrapers
cutting the residents into cogs
There’s a fierceness to the streets
the rockiest trail can never match
A menace looms inside their shadows
impossible to catch
Hidden death within the gridlock
as nature disappears
A violence calling from within
—only city dwellers hear
(Train To White River Junction: March, 2018)
