There was this dream
of the trouble he would see
in death
as he had seen in life

But the sight of his ghost
disturbed him the most
as it hacked
at its chains
with a knife

In search of one hour
in a world of hurry
to the crawl of time
plagued with medieval worry

This too shall pass

I wouldn't know
the genius of Van Gogh
I only know what I feel
The glorious sight
of his color and light
is more
than I've a right to steal

Is it the Shakespeare
or is it love
Is it a rapier
on the wings of a dove
****** into his open heart
testing the poison
of Cupid's dart
Is it an elixir
poured from a sonnet
or he is bewitched
from the look of her bonnet
Is it Shakespeare
or is it love
or maybe the kiss
of her sweet scented glove

Cherish those rare moments
when we have the ability
to settle and relax
into thoughts of our youth
and remember the simplicity of ourselves

How sad
the long face of a friend
or one who has
stood so long
on a side of the mirror
as to call him as none other
Both think some fear and loathing
are feelings they share
Each thinks the other phony
Hence, the contemptuous stare

Yes, beware
The Ides of March
Tis the Spring
Of our discontent
But, Lord, what fools
These mortals be
When they heed
The ears they lent
There is nothing
Either good or bad
But thinking
Makes it so
And if the head
Won’t yield to reason
Then up the ****
It goes!

That fleeting moment
of divine inspiration
floats like a leaf
on a warm Autumn day
Gather it quickly
and pull it close to your heart
before a cold wind
comes and blows it away

May the light of a smile
put a song in your heart
and see you thankful
for a place with the living
May the beautiful promise
of a better tomorrow
be the gift
that keeps on giving

Tiny blue ballerina
Dancing in a storm
Chaos all about her
As she tries to hold her form
The dreary sets seem out of place
And the music isn't right
The cellos have been fighting
With the flutes throughout the night
Remember tiny dancer
You are following your bliss
So, take that ever graceful bow
And blow the audience a kiss

I sincerely wish
I could blame the flesh
for the weakness of my mind
and in the end
I can depend
on the judgement to be so kind

Sometimes
I look at travel photos
And recognize myself in places
I know I have never been

Within the time-worn walls
Of an old European village
I hear strange but wonderful music
over the cacophony of conversation

I see myself in a cafe
Engaged in a debate about
Art, politics, or the contents of my glass
And I am again reminded
That man does not live by bread alone

There are those whose passions
Are never stirred more
Than through talk of ideology,
Religion , and war
They draw lines in the sand
And declare for their land
That transgressors be met
With the edge of a sword


They eat at the same table
Drink from the same trough
Shout out all the slogans
Wear the same cloth
They stand strong and tall
Behind a thick wall
Claiming God as their ally
Through the foam and the froth

Their numbers are many
These beggars of men
Ignoring compassion and reason
Again and again
Pray they drop their knees down
and abandon their frowns
Allowing God in their hearts
Where the devil has been

Tiny blue ballerina
Dancing in a storm
Chaos all about her
As she tries to hold her form
The dreary sets seem out of place
And the music isn't right
The cellos have been fighting
With flutes all blasted night
Remember tiny dancer
You are following your bliss
So, take that ever graceful bow
And blow the audience a kiss

It was through
But a single reed
That I held up in my hand

My eyes took aim
At the winter sky
As I walked through chilly sand

And for a time
I felt as though
The sun was smiling at me

It lit my way
The rest of the day
Before it hid behind the sea

Alone amidst the hurried throngs
That move along a street
He’s the statue in a crowded square
Who chose to still his feet
Hoping for a cathartic tear
To mend his fear and pity
He watches all the desperate dots
Looking for the ‘I’ in city

From the crushing tears pressed upon her bed
To drifting among the clouds
She heard it first inside her head
Then whispered the words aloud
Don’t you cry
Sweet butterfly
Soon enough you will be free
For life is but a moment
Compared to eternity

Be mindful of nostalgia trips
And recollection of past years
Step lightly down old memory lane
Or it may produce some tears

For every triumph in one’s life
There are bound to be regrets
So, remember all the good times
And hope the rest you can forget

Whenever it’s dark and gray
On a winter’s rainy day
Content for a single ray
Deep into the month of May
Shine baby shine
Shine baby shine
Tell me the line
That will make you mine

From behind a window pane
I watch the relentless rain
I’m suffering from the pain
Of a broken water main
Shine baby shine
Shine baby shine
Will you be so kind
To put this gloom behind?

Fancy the bare tree of January
As the Sorcerer’s magic brush
There to paint a Winter’s gray sketch
As a fresh and vibrant landscape of Spring

Whisper what you want of me
How much longer can I wait?
My hearing really is quite good
Though I don't always see so straight
I sit beneath a starry night
Listening for a sign
But alas
More hours pass
Seem like a waste of time
Whisper what you want of me
I grow tired of the wait
I want to know the secret
Before it is too late
Whisper what you want of me
For I do not see
If the question is aimed above
Or is it aimed at me

I sincerely wish
I could blame the flesh
for the weakness of my mind
and in the end
I could depend
on my Judge to be so kind

Sometimes Inside
I feel oceans
inspired
by the breath of the sea
From atop a great hill
my heart and lungs fill
with a spirited hunger to be

Sometimes Inside
I feel valleys
lined with sheets of parched sand
Where dry eyes can’t cry
for dreams that have died
and hope is lost once again

There’s a little white church
in Barcelona
Not far from the lighthouse
overlooking the bay
It’s where I spent
my Bible school summers
and sometimes Christmas
in a Sunday school play

We'd walk to the smoke house
down on the shore
Savor some soft ice cream
from a nearby stand
Run out on the breakwall
that sat in the harbor
Greet the fine sailboats
with a wave of the hand

There’s little so dear
to my precious memories
than this cozy warm village
of my childhood days
Where everyone gathered
for dinner at grandma’s
Can someone please pass
the potatoes this way?

Thou shall not ****
Until enemies prove worthy
The satisfaction of our lustful revenge
May we be ever watchful
Of all who would stain our honor
So as to punish with impunity
And in the aftermath of such exactment
Recall that tiny place in the heart
That carries the forgiveness of Jesus
And be then ashamed

Tis my brother's memory locked
From what he does not tell
He walks along his wall alone
To guard his private hell

Tis my brother's soul so scorched
At times his mood morose
It's when his demon's flames are freed
So, I do not stand so close

Tis my brother's fate to suffer
And this is what I fear
I have nothing else to offer
But a sympathetic ear

There will be no smiles today
There will be no laughter
There will be no acts of love
or the moments after
There will be no celebration
There will be no glee
Only thoughts of those I've lost
and what they meant to me

As I find myself standing
at the foot of this hole
A ***** in my hand
A little angst in my soul
I ask the same question
Again and again
Do I dig the hole deeper
of do I fill it in?

Truth is truth
until proven rotten
Lies are lies
But seem never forgotten

It is both eerie and sad to sit
in this dark room
listening to the tuning
of his instruments
For they now lie abandoned
in a forgotten corner
along with his dreams
that rose in the steam
of yesterday’s morning coffee
Now are the casualties from battles of dysfunction
long dead but not forgotten

I would like to hear again
From my brother’s violin
And see the world
As not the sin
That took it all
Away from him

Much of I know is *******
I hope that that little of what I do not know
Is not

Sometimes, we can be such geniuses
Caught in the lies
Of what we think we know
It's just part of the show
Trading truth
For a clever disguise

Poor Dog
lying in the road
there must have been
no place to go
My friend
you must have known
this was no place for you

In a car
rushing by
I'm the one
who's sick inside
no matter how you died
there was nothing I could do

Old dog
I'll say a prayer
as you lie sleeping there
Find a place in my despair
and haunt my whole day through

I want to go….
Where I can render harmless
The aftershocks of a quaking world

Where I can sweat in warm night air
Filled with a late summer’s peace
Ride on mattresses made of puffy white clouds
That slowly float past a bright harvest moon

Where I can pleasantly reel in the past
Smile at the younger version of myself
and forgive

Back to dreamland
Again I fell
Now I feel
Like *******
Why did I
Not stay awake
And face the day
For my own sake
Now I can’t
Lift my head
Or peel myself
Off this bed
I must stop
This sleep and slumber
Or my room
Will fill with lumber!

As I stand beneath
this beautiful tree
I ask it's limbs
to hug me tender
and raise me up
so that I may see
the color of Autumn
in all it's splendor

One day I rose
from where I was sitting
to embrace the world's love
as if it befitting
then fast lowered myself
at the lack of humility
and shuddered for days
at the responsibility

As I step through
a small patch of woods
this fine morning
I feel the cold breath
of Winter on my neck
I catch a glimpse
of a rabbit's white tail
bobbing in and out of my sight
It's Thanksgiving
and this moment of near silence
is not lost on me
As I head back
I pretend to be a woodsman
following the last of Autumn's
long shadows
to a warm house
that will soon fill of family and friends
and I am grateful for it

Lady bug Lady bug
My, you are so small
Yet, you cast a shadow
Upon my kitchen wall
It makes me think my frame of mind
Can sometimes be so shallow
And that is when I’m wee enough
To fit inside that shadow
Lady bug Lady bug
What if you should fall
Where am I to go
When I do not stand so tall?

How are these colors of Autumn
possibly described by words?
It is like God speaking to us
through a prism of light
unique to the day
A special painting
that like a footprint in the sand
is erased by an evening tide
but never in our imaginations or our memories

The temptation to look again
Is too much to resist
I can’t hide the disappointment
As the ugly truth persists

The little hand won’t cooperate
And the big hand is even worse
Yet, I remain a clock watcher
And some days it’s such a curse

I’m aware of all devices
Designed to show me time
And not a one can return to me
What I thought was mine

Maybe I can convince some folks
Get everyone to agree
To set the big hand back each day
So I may enjoy my tea!

Time waits for no one

No matter the misery one keeps

So, wake up if you dare

From unavailing despair

For the keeper cares not if you sleep

Winter follows
The long bow of a cello
And all in it’s realm
Must play to it’s tempo
As the last of the leaves
Fall to the ground
And trees must wear
This season’s white gown
All God’s creatures
Ready for sleep
And the peace of their slumber
Is the cello’s to keep

He looked upon
These shells of men
Upon the cobblestone
Again
It sadly touched
His heart to know
This colleague had no
Place to go
And took such comfort
From a flask
There was no notice
Of what was asked
“**** the poison
Inside thy head!
Be thee alive?
Or be thee dead?”

Grunts, groans
whimpers and moans
shakes, shivers, and barks
leaps of glee
at the chance to ***
on every pole in the park!

The pedals for me
A seat for you
On a bicycle
Not built for two

The wind at our backs
Pushing the load
Free us to coast
Down a country road

Pick one for you
And one for me
After we stop
By an apple tree

Spin round and round
In a field of rye
Bask in the sun
'Neath a blue sky

After a day
That ends too soon
We'll race across
The face of the moon

You are the hand
I am the glove
This the dance
The dance of love

For as long as it lasts
The dance of love

Acts of kindness
and generosity
are often cloaked
in anonymity

In the shadow of fear
May my strength of heart
Not let death’s foul breath
Keep me apart
From the hope of my passing
That I go unharmed
To the loving hospitality
Of God’s open arms

Crows in a wheat field
Just before a storm
Bearing dark omens
Of the future yet to come
They came to me in mourning
Inside my dreams at night
Before too long Pop took ill
And chased God into the light
Crows in a wheat field
Soaking in the rain
Waiting for my head to nod
And for me to sleep again

My heart to those
who so love a rose
They wither along side
it's mortal repose
But, there should be no mourning
it's angelic face
For a divine likeness
will bloom in it's place