A Sampling of New and Published Poetry From My Two Books of Poetry

Requiem for Love

Love does not die of just a single blow,

Its life flows out quite slowly over years,

One drop follows another as love flows,

From thousands of nonfatal cuts and tears.

A thousand little stings from tongue or eye,

A thousand unkind words from me and you,

A thousand “I told you so’s” piled on high,

A thousand battles lost, refought anew.

Each wound a scab that grows harder with time,

Covering festered hurts that will not heal,

An unwise word morphs to betrayal sublime,

Suppurating reminders all too real.

Simple kindness is lost from lack of use,

And what remains just a facade in truth.

My podcast reading of this poem is available at https://open.spotify.com/episode/7tRrW46ovkUfmLknjvhmGn?si=ipvg74hOQ3iWbWWlPfhDKw

(From Echoes of Dawn at Dusk: Collected Poems, Volume 2)

Sonnet to a Friendly Critic

When did she lose touch with my inner heart?

Was it so long ago she held it near?

It was so easy from the very start,

To share it all with one I love so dear.

How can she thumb the pages of my life,

And find fault with the words at every turn?

So easily she crosses out a line,

Ignoring all that from it she could learn.

I smile, she smiles, but does not understand,

And she goes on, perusing through my soul;

In just a moment I will take her hand,

And we may both yet smile as we grow old.

Our love is strong, its long-fueled flame still burns,

But what is gone will never more return.

(From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems)

Ode to Innocence

Oh half remembered, fleeting, happy time,

When nothing mattered more than love and play,

Imagination was then in its prime,

And life began anew with every day.

A flower was then a joy, a mystery,

And not a petal, root and simple stem,

And life was full of wondrous fantasy,

Untainted by the intellect of man.

That time is gone now; it cannot return,

The fruit’s been swallowed; its slow poison kills,

And yet my fallen heart will always yearn,

For that most happy time of unknown skills.

Oh false god, knowledge, daily you destroy,

All that was holy in me as a boy!

(From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems)

Siren’s Song

Poetry is a dangerous siren’s song,

That calls the soul towards a chasm deep,

Dulling the mind and making the heart long,

For that which it may touch yet never keep.

A Sonnet is too much the friend of truth,

And leaves no room for self-deluding lies,

It conjures up the honesty of youth,

And artifice through artifice soon dies.

Essential truths will spill onto the page,

Transpiring through the pores of consciousness,

Leaving exposed the battles that we wage,

To build facades of hope for hopelessness.

I can deny the painful song I hear,

But it’s too late; its message is too clear.

(From Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems)

Ode to French Bread

Oh still-warm vision of my heart’s delight,

Your crusty, crunchy skin and doughy heart,

Your sweet aroma with tears blurs my sight,

And makes me yearn to taste your every part.

My doctor says you’ll be the death of me,

Blood sugar and triglycerides too high,

But I don’t care, for my love sets me free,

And of one thing or other we must die.

Come, spend some time with me, bask in my love,

The simple pleasures are the best, one knows,

We’re meant to be, we fit like hand in glove,

The more I have you, the more hunger grows.

Alas, I cannot live with only you,

Charcuterie and wine are vital too.

Death of a Quiet Soldier

Behind enemy lines you gave your life,

The risks you knew and embraced willingly,

Red, black and green berets fought by your side,

And brought your body back to family.

Later in a ritual of their own,

They would name a field airport in your name,

And honor you, your brothers, far from home,

Their memory now your eternal flame.

I do not know your rank, your name, your face,

I only know that I am in your debt,

Who for your family can take your place?

Our debt to them we must never forget.

The freedom I enjoy comes thanks to you,

And all who serve with honor, proud and true.

[Members of the elite special forces units consider themselves quiet soldiers. They do their work in the background, in some of the most dangerous places on earth. They bring their special skills to bear behind enemy lines operating in the shadows with only one another to watch their backs. And they don’t leave one of their own behind. As a rule they don’t talk about their work to outsiders. This sonnet is based on a very rare instance when one of these quiet soldiers very briefly mentioned an instance behind enemy lines where one of their own was killed in action but not left behind.]

From of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems (C) 2011

On Veterans Day

Some came back home with scars that would not heal,

Some were welcomed with ticker tape parades,

Some spit upon by cowards with much zeal,

Some draped in flags to rest in early graves.

They fought in all our wars asking not why,

For country, family, brothers in arms,

They fought that freedom should not, would not die,

They fought in cities, forests, fields and farms.

They bought our freedom with their sacrifice,

Paid with their blood, their limbs, their innocence,

They sought not thanks, though no thanks could suffice,

As payment for their great munificence.

Remember them, today and every day,

For those who live and all who died please pray.

On My Second Book of Poetry

Two decades passed since my first book of poems,

It was past time to publish volume two,

The sands of time weigh heavy on my bones,

And my road narrows with yet much to do.

Too many friends have now passed through the veil,

As have my parents and their siblings all,

My circle narrows, empty now my vale,

In sleepless nights I can but hear their call.

So many dreams deferred that now have died,

My negligence bereft them of their life,

So many doors left closed I should have tried,

No hope remains for me or for my wife.

Even my music echoes distant, dull,

But poetry can for a time pain lull.

A Holiday Message

The holidays approach with quiet grace,

Floating above the merchandising din,

Their spirit fills our hearts, their proper place,

Displacing hate, greed, envy, and all sin.

Whether you worship Jesus, as I do,

Allah, YHWH, or other Deity,

That teaches justice, honor, all things true,

We are family joined in piety.

Those who would divide us worship no god,

They worship power, seek not grace or truth,

They sow the seeds of hate on fertile sod,

The minds of fools and our innocent youth.

I bid you peace in all your holidays,

May God’s light burn true paths through evil’s haze.

I Need a Reset Button

I need a reset button for my life,

A chance to chart a course on a blank slate,

Unplant the seeds that blossomed pain and strife,

And brought a bitter harvest to my plate.

I walked by open doors that closed behind,

With eyes fixed only forward on my course,

Trying to do what’s right, I’ve been unkind,

Attempts to avoid pain just made it worse.

I should have explored many other paths,

That led to orchards that would bear sweet fruit,

My solitary one has led to wrath,

The seeds I planted would themselves uproot.

What use is wisdom when it comes too late?

There is no reset button to cheat fate.

Requiem for Mom (Lita - 1929 - 2018)

You were only seven when you went blind,

But could see again in less than two years,

Two years later you were seeking to find,

Full time work to help your mom ease her fears.

Eight brothers and sisters home, and dad dead,

From fascists’ caresses in dark, dank cells,

You rolled up your sleeves without tears or dread,

Worked full time packing fish and working wells.

At sixteen you left for a foreign shore,

Worked hard, learned to read, saved all that you could,

To pay mom’s passage and two brothers more,

Keeping a promise as you knew you would.

Of your son you were as proud as can be,

But one of your cells was worth ten of me.

[From Echoes of Dawn at Dusk]

My Simple Plea

While there is life, there’s hope, Spaniards do say,

What good is life, though, when all hope is gone?

With our hearts breaking, we can nightly pray,

Try to ignore reason’s call to move on.

Faith for a time can keep our hope alive,

Drown out despair’s compelling siren’s song,

Until the sands of time slowly contrive,

To wear to nothing that which once was strong.

And yet I cling to that thin, fading dream,

That all might yet be well for those I love,

For no one knows what will flow in life’s stream,

Known only to the mind of God above.

Please help her, God, and all I love in need,

Please, dearest Lord, I beg you, intercede.

[ You can hear me read this sonnet at https://open.spotify.com/episode/7lz7sndL26fzgmanPQ8FSA?si=goctaRMgTkKcCbOpV21etA ]

For Devon Short [On the tragic death of a five year-old boy]

A little angel winks from up above,

The littlest fireman in God’s domain,

Bathed in God’s Grace, covered with His love,

Untouched by earthly cares, worries, or pain.

Too soon your race was done, Devon, dear child,

Only five summers’ suns warmed your sweet face,

And yet you brought much joy for one so mild,

To all who knew your smile, felt your embrace.

Tears mark your passing in a time too brief,

We wish God had less pressing need of you,

Your family struggles now to bear their grief,

Lord, grant them peace and strength their whole lives through.

Your spirit flies now high above the sky,

Lifted by love that will not, cannot die.

Sonnet to C. R. - 1988

I tried so hard to share my love with you,

To make you see the dream I saw so clear,

Yet you could not believe my words were true,

Could not let go of your consuming fear.

I waited hoping for some subtle change,

Ignoring every sign it would not come,

Until the dream was clearly out of range,

And hope, an evanescent shadow, gone.

The emptiness I feel knows no regret,

So do not weep for me, sweetest of friends,

Each fleeting moment shared I’ll not forget,

I know what love is now, and how it ends.

The love I felt will live while I take breath,

The dream I’ll carry with me to my death.

[ Recently published in my novel, Hire Lernin’: An Idealist’s Quest through the Realm of for-Profit Education ]