You Have Come To Know Me Too Well,
With The Charming Blink Of Your Eye,
I'm Held Captive Under Your Spell,
And When All The Light Has Drawn Nigh,
I Can Still Hear The Ancient Knell,
Ringing Throughout The Nighttime Sky,
And As I Ponder What To Do,
I Find Myself Dreaming Of You

They come now robed in mirrors
That are polished to a sheen,
Doused in smoke
And smeared with gasoline.
Each mirrored shard reflecting dreams
Of chances lost and what may have been.
Their own are nowhere to be found,
Veiled and hidden,
Safe and sound.
But,
Pry back those mirrored shards
And beware what you may see,
The forms of  frail men
Disfigured and diseased.
Their minds had long since set them free
From the warring of beasts
And the powers that be.
And,
Yet it holds them fast,
Mind tethered and lashed
As a sail rigged tight
And firm to mast.
At last!
Their mirrors stare back.
With all the veracity of history
The shame, the pride,
Whatever it is they lack.
Whatever it is they say they need.
They say they need,
And so then they believe.
No matter the hypocrisy...

I say they,
Perhaps I mean me.

They speak of peace and stability
while  vacationing in a dreamland      
reality hurts
sweet words are lies
when actions speak the loudest
   the truth will prevail
    honesty is gold

My Father’s Clothes

My father left a rack of suits
And on their cloth still hung cologne
Hand tailored navies, greys and mutes
And one plus-fours in herringbone

He had a drawer-full plump with ties
Rolled silks and regimental stripes
But none with matching handkerchiefs
For dad was not one of those types

He favoured good strong walking shoes
And walk he did with fancy cane
“If you look smart, then you are smart”
Was Duncan Baxter’s wise refrain

Some thought my dad a gentleman
He opened doors and doffed his hat
And rose when ladies entered rooms
Now why don’t people still do that?

Folks called him “sir” when he’d arrive
He had that bearing in his blood
Though widowed with a brood of five
He did the very best he could

He taught us rules are hard and fast
And manners make you who you are
And please and thank you always last
As first impressions take you far

Another thing he used to say
“To thine own self always be true”
Has helped me even to this day
When sometimes unsure what to do

Occasionally he’d raise his hand
To keep his errant sons in line
I didn’t understand it then
I wonder would it work on mine

We children could have had much more
Our aunts and uncles used to say
If he’d been wise enough to store
Some money for a rainy day


In truth he lived beyond his means
As men of taste are wont to do
And never realized his dreams
To live the life he wanted to

He moved among a group of friends
Who drank pink gins at social dos
And puffed on Turkish cigarettes
And daily scanned the racing news

He should have been a country squire
Perhaps what he was born to be
With open fires and hearty stews
A labrador beside his knee

To ride about in hunting pink
My brunette mother by his side
Alas there was no joy I think
For father after mother died

My mother left her darling ones
All spirited and out of hand
Three lovely daughters and two sons
On Valentine’s in Newfoundland

Now father lies in simple ground
Carnations flutter at his stone
Across the road, a pub he’d found
Where he would never drink alone

The day he left, the landlord’s flag
Was billowed half along its pole
And locals gathered, glass in hand
To send a tribute to his soul

And when I gaze at hillsides green
Or hear a Richard Tauber strain
Or think of places where we’ve been
I see his weathered smile again

My father left a rack of suits
Those things that last when you are gone
And life is short and love is rare
No matter what clothes you have on.

~



Of broken branch and multi-colored stone façade
the pathway steals my outward glance
Winding through the cottage hills
like kite string freed by a strong wind, it spills
Patterns shadow in abstract array
through barbed wire and solid steel
barricades, creating menacing shapes,
criss-crossing narrow wheel ruts of long ago


“I tug my trousers in defiance and set my pace”


Obstacles, of stead and stood,
branded in a wilting wood…
directions carved to empty me of all I know as good


Within my chest sits a living compass,
beating my quest in a never ending melody,
sweet as creamed corn pie and pointing
towards the sun, which sits before me
two hills above the horizon on this new day
Temptation beckons over my right shoulder,
whistling in the breeze of delicious
offerings, and I do hunger…


“Still I stand firm of my journey back to your love”


Take your glow of nectarines
Cool refreshing summer streams
For I shan’t waver, not an inch, her love calls in my dreams

Midday, as the solar glow finds my shoulders red
and sweat clings like life in dampened conclusions,
blisters form bringing the pain of decisions made before…
and I would have it no other way…for this I deserve
Mountains faced of jagged stone break my crawl,
rubble sweeps my feet, as my knees bleed,
thirst speaks in the language of a long feared enemy…
yet I do not listen…


“No challenge shall be placed that will keep me from my return to you”


State your case in hammered stone
Tear my skin of broken bone
No tethered vines of loneliness shall sway me from my home



My shadow now waits before me, long and slender,
molded by dried weathered foot prints…my foot prints,
heading a direction opposite my heart
Many years old yet still their outline remains as a warning…
When I see it, the lilac arbor, scented in old desires and
new in life, encasing a glow, melodies of  gold finch sing
as my eyes find your smile, an extended hand, a soft touch
I have found my way home…


“My sweet love, this heart begs forgiveness and longs you eternally”


*Mistakes I’ve made, my journey far
on borrowed steps of distant stars
my every waking dream desires to be right where you are