Wednesday, January 28, 2009


Time drifts by like
Sand sifting through 
My fingers on some
Deseserted beach.
All those memories
Now lost in the angry
Sound of an ocean surf.
Thoughts carried away
On a white geyser only
To crash harmlessly
At the waters edge.
The hopes of too many
Yesterdays are waiting
For a meaningful tomorrow,
A tomorrow that never comes.
Natures beauty is timeless
And I just the visitor awaiting
Some epiphany, the hope
That I can move on, to......?

Monday, January 26, 2009


Why do I fear........
Being wrong?
Or just singing a song?
Making a commitment,
Or taking a chance?
Wanting to ask you 
To the school dance?
Appearing crestfallen,
Or maybe meek?
Is it really that I am weak?
In reality the fear within,
"Tis not where I am 
But where I have been."

Friday, January 23, 2009

Just One More Time

My mind drifts back, decades now,
Too many drinks, the empty vows.
The road to to ruin awash with pain,
One more drink to keep me sane.
It never works but there's always hope
That one more swallow will help me cope.
I am that crusader replete with cape,
"Hey barkeep, just one more" I must escape.
The haze engulfs me, the hope now gone,
With any luck there will be no dawn.
The forgotten glory, the light and flame,
The sadness a shroud, I have no name.
This is my life and I have lost it all,
My only thought just one "last call."
The liver enlarged and the heartbeat fast,
"Just give me one more"it may be the last.


The palpable feeling of drama
Roaring through my mind as
I begin reaching for THAT glass,
Transfixed by the tiny rivulets  of
Moisture tracing a steady path
Downward, only to end up at
A cigarette burned bar top.
The voices are saying "it's ok,
This will be the ONLY one."
The lies continue piling up
While the ice creates a 
Tantelizing vision melting
A path down the side of the glass.
My mouth is dry, parched lips
Thursting for the goblet's offering.
"What is the harm?"  I ask myself,
Right hand trembling as I reach out.
"It will ONLY be this ONE............"
The darkness engulfs me, the drama
In my mind explodes, giving way
To a solitary jouerney to nowhere.

Monday, January 19, 2009


Where was the pride,
That of country?
Where was the concern,
For others, and ourselves?
Where was the anger,
That children shoot each other?
That a noose is used as a threat,
To a college professor?
To a police officer?
To anyone, anyone at all?
Why do we accept destroying Iraq,
And refusing to fix New Orleans?
Why is "No child left behind" needed,
If no healthcare for that child is not?
Does anyone care, at all?

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Coming Home/Pilgrimage

The summer heat radiates off the tarmac.
Shimmering waves of light bounce off
A black background announcing
Death's imminent arrival, fresh from
The killing grounds of Iraq.
Teary eyed families stare motionless,
Waiting for that giant silver coffin to taxi
Towards the hangar's cavernous entrance.
Black hearses silently await their cargo
For the final long  trip home.
There are no reporters, camermen, smiling faces,
They are forbidden by the people in Washington.
There is only the heat, tears, and the silence of
                               THE DEAD
Will we smile again?  Laugh again?
When will the carnage stop?  And the lies?
When will we stop pretending Iraq is for others?
The only sound heard is the mournful cry of a child,
Not understanding why daddy has returned
Without a hug, just a canvas bag with a long zipper.

Monday, January 12, 2009

A Glass Wall

For too many years,
And too many fears,
All of the pain with
The sadness and tears.
Caught in that bell jar,
A transparent glass wall
Unable to reach out and
Removed from it all.
The world passes by, the
Deafening silence within,
I am trapped in the present
Like a laboratory specimen.
I want to pound on that glass,
Shouting "Let me out now",
Hoping someone will hear
my frantic pleas and sad vows.
But it is I who must slip under
That brittle glass wall, hoping
Just to be free from the pain of it all.

A Reflection

I remember my father sitting by the window,
Back stiff against the wood spindle-back chair.
His plaid woolen shirt, long faded by the sun,
Now thread bare from mom's attentive washing.
His metal frame glasses perched easily at the end
Of his nose, while a five o'clock shadow swathed a stern
And aging face ready to smile with bemused interest.
He was lost in another Abe Lincoln biography, a fabled
Life absorbing all his attention,the heavy tome in his lap.
It really didn't matter that he was alone, my father WAS
Those "Four Score And Seven Years Ago", those fabled
Words a foundation of our country, the Lincoln  legacy.
He would sit there quietly, absorbing monents in the past,
It never ocurred to him that it could never last.
Even "Honest Abe" understood history's great value
Is tody's path to the future, but my father just never knew.
Minutes would turn to hours, natures light giving way to
The antique hurricane lamp, positioned "just so."
I have often wondered if that would be me some day,
A life on the wane, alone, with so little to say.

Monday, January 5, 2009

A Final Farewell

The barren hill top
The bitter November wind
The marble tombsones
The gaping cavity in the ground
The shovel lifting dark earth
The flowers on the coffin lid
The pounding of dirt on wood
The desperate cold
The fading memories
The silence