There’s a voice deep inside me
still trying to get out
Ignoring my pleadings,
it screams and it shouts
Its call is the loudest
on those darkest of nights
When my mind seeks new refuge
from Seraph’s delight
I toss and I turn,
but it speaks louder still
As its words start to burn
from new vision distilled
No barter or denial
will turn back its call
The Muse is on fire
—my pen not to stall
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Escaping into verse,
the base of the tower 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)
‘Sermon to the choir….’
the writers group sat motionless
with their heads down
‘Sermon to the choir….’
they listened for their instructor
to announce—“your time starts now”
‘Sermon to the choir….’
they tried to imagine what they had never seen
while wondering about what they couldn’t know
‘Sermon to the choir….’
the writers group then raised their heads
and packed their grief to go
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Run away from the what,
let the how lead the way
Keep the questions before you
and the answers at bay
Deem your motion perpetual
with all stops left behind
As those presents unwrapped
open up in your mind
May the wind rise to greet you
and your sun never set
On those places now virgin
and a lover unmet
May the wisdom of sages
be your rallying cry
As you course through the ages
—forever wondering why
(Train-New Haven: March, 2015)
You no longer need any help from me,
your path is free and clear
The mantle handed off, baton passed,
my position in the rear
You don’t really need to ask my advice,
but I’m thrilled each time you do
You’ve gone far beyond the trail I marked,
to me—nothing left to prove
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Returning to what was,
the past became death
All time in the coffin,
—eternity at rest
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Those living in Harlem
want to live in Midtown
The people in Midtown
the Upper West Side
The Upper West Side on
the Long Island Shore
The Long Island Shore
in Aspen or Vail
Aspen or Vail
to the beaches in Cannes
The bathers in Cannes
to the Champs Elysees
People always search for where
life can begin
A place that remains distant
and far out of reach
Any excuse to look outward
and not in themselves
Their souls left in turmoil
—their hearts not at rest
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Can a phrase rule
over a paragraph
Can the right word
stand alone
Can a thought be held
within one breath
Can the truth in short
be known
Can you single out
the future
Can you paraphrase
the past
Can you connect a feeling
to just one thought
Can you make this moment
last
Can you keep the magic
and release the trick
Can Apollo set you
free
Can you say it while
defying time
Can you voice your soul’s
release
(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)
I captain the words to suit my mood
to curse or then to pray
And document those things I feel
to others then to say
I choose each verb and noun with care
and place them side by side
Reminding all of what we share
those knots we must untie
I move the future to the past
the present to the front
As what most lingers, then to last
the handle to the pump
Juxtaposing based on need
the lines as rivers go
Where currents cast my dreams adrift
—and wishes overflow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)
Standing on the wrong side of the platform
waiting for the train
Remembering the mistakes I made
but not the reasons why
Listening for the truth beyond the excuse
feeling what my thoughts would never allow
I boarded in the dark….
Ticketed, to a new and unplanned destination
—fated, to a distant terminal unknown
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
