NOW

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Oh, just another day

Calling out: “Here is

A gift of new hope,

New opportunities”,

Perhaps a vision of

NOW?

Yet, the fear strangles

My gut, the question,

Always that question:

Is there a tomorrow?

The dread permeates

My soul and I can hear

That clock ticking, ever

A reminder that time is

A limited allusion, sifting

Through the fingers

Like hot sand on a July

Day at Coney Island.

Desperately I try to hold

On to those “sparkling

Diamonds”,knowing it

Is only a futile gesture.

Child like tears trickle

Down time worn cheeks,

Leaving random spots

On a threadbare shirt.

There is nothing left

To say or think, only

The painful effort to

Move forward, into

The only moment I have.

TIME

Time floats by, as if on a river;

In childhood, ever so slowly, then

Drifting through the teen years

Only to be ignored after college.

There is marriage, careers and

Suddenly, the children have

Come and gone,to be replaced by

Smiling grandchildren, allowing

Us to drift once again in the warm

Waters of fantasy, untethered by

Thoughts of yesterday or tomorrow.

Yes,time permits long, wistful looks

Backward through hazy memories,

And reminders that clarity is now

Not in the future nor in the past.

AGAIN

The unruly tattoo beats

Methodically through

My head: “Unworthy,

Unworthy”,again and again.

Sometimes ever so lightly,

Yet again ever so loudly,

A roiling thunder reminding

ME of failures and sadness.

This ends too often in the

Battle of the bottle, the elixir

That flows into the empty

Playground of my mind.

Why does this never end?

Will I always crawl into that

Cocoon of denial awaiting

Some liquid savior? Again?

The questions persist, why:

-Must I exist, like this?

-Must the mirror be cracked?

-Must I cry tears of failure?

In this court of doom and gloom,

Who is the judge I stand before,

This denigrator and chief? Yes,

It is ME. Again.

NOT SO MUCH

There have been too many years

Filled with too many tears, memories

Adrift in a dark sea of liquid dreams.

Yet,this was never about booze, or

The haze that blinded reality, or

Not having made an effort at anything,

Other than lifting that glass filled with

No tomorrows. This had been about

Being lost in a vatic reality, a lifetime

Attempting to escape the feelings of

Failure and inadequacy, a child not

Knowing who he was, or if there was

A tomorrow with love or comfort in it.

The growing into manhood, feeling

Lost and without direction or courage.

Understanding? No, only that

Unyielding bed of loneliness where

There was nothing left to feel or touch.

And hope? NOT SO MUCH

PLAYING WITH TOYS

The lens captures the image,

Gold and burnt orange leaves

Caught in the wind, finally

Settling on a grassy surface.

For one moment I have been

Able to capture the color of

Today, the brilliance of autumn,

Replete with cool breezes, and

Fading sunlight struggling to

Shine through bare branches.

If only time could be embraced

So poetically, to be poured over,

Tinkered with on ones computer.

I have seized the moment, not

Realizing that I am trapped in

A story, out of focus, playing with

The conventional toys of today.

Will I ever learn that I cannot

Recreate the past in order

To ignore the perils of the present?

Who Will Lead Us?

Teddy Kennedy is gone.
A leader has left a vacuum.
Who will lead us now?
Who will have the compassion?
Who will have the wisdom?
Who will have the vision
To say “Yes we can”, today?
AND
Who will stand up to the:
-Pejorative speeches?
-Those who decry dissent?
-The specious reasoning?
-The hate mongering?
-All those canons of canards?
Yes, Edward M. Kennedy is gone,
Yet the standard is there, a path
Clear for those who wish to dare.
The question remains:
WHO WILL LEAD US

Larger Than Life

A mighty voice has now been stilled
A country mourned as Teddy
Was buried upon that “hill.”
He did so much over the years,
He stood so tall among his peers.
He “sailed” the Capitol as
He did the seas, making
Every move with consummate ease.
His many accomplishments helped us all,
He left this country standing tall.
Oh, he made mistakes and would admit,
The worst of which was Chappaquiddick.
For that eventful day he made amends,
Yet lived to regret it right up until the end.
On the campaign trail or Senate floor
Teddy stood to help both rich and poor.
We are all the better for his life on earth
And miss his wisdom, caring and the mirth.
Now that his boat has left the shore
That lion’s roar will be heard no more.