Friday, July 27, 2018

DWINDLING, a poem




Another classmate has gone
a heavenly call from God
or sickly old age
no big difference
now we are dwindling

Yes we were young once
athletic bodies
and such pretty girls
happy were those days
now we are dwindling

What awaits all of us
a chemicalized corpse
in a concrete box
or scattered ashes
an unfettered soul

Friday, July 20, 2018

QUIET REVELS, a poem




Smiling she steps through
my memory’s door
a slender young woman
bursting with happiness
filling my life with laughter

After three months overseas
she rushes towards me
across Kennedy airport
so stunningly beautiful
filling my life with laughter

In the sundown
of ending age
joyful memories
are quiet revels
filling my life with laughter




Wednesday, February 7, 2018

DREAMWORLD, a poem




Rapture ignited the fire
of prolonged deepening desire
with a loving intensity  
impossible to satisfy
in our dreamworld

The passage of time turned passion
into a smoldering landscape
periodically bursting
into renovated romance
in our dreamworld

Old age seized us
in its wearing grip
worn bodies remember
the sparks of young love
in our dreamworld


          (Feb. 7, 2018)

Thursday, January 11, 2018

MYSTICAL HOME, a poem



Home is for the aged forlorn
a mystical memory
of waking to mother
in the childhood kitchen
making breakfast

Waking in girlish happiness
anticipating a happy day
walking with friends to school
ice skating in the park
enjoying a hot chocolate

If only we could
fetch that girlhood scene
to the present moment
to salve the endless ache
for the mystical home

          (Nov. 11, 2018)


Saturday, January 6, 2018

HAPPY THOUGHTS, a poem



In tortured times
think happy thoughts
the easiest sources
lie in your idyllic
childhood memories

Mine: going with my father
all alone to Coney Island
the pleasure of my mother
welcoming me home with love
at the end of the school day

Picnicking  with  my sister Gloria
Bicycling with my brother Bill
Lunching with my sister Miriam
Campbell’s tomato soup
and oysterettes

          (Jan. 6, 2018: During World War II, my mother was still at work for a company catering to defense plants when I came home from school for lunch and at the end of the school day. She would leave lunch, soup and a sandwich, on the kitchen table for my sister, Miriam, and me. I was 11 when the war ended, her job along with it. I can still clearly recall the pleasure of finding her home once again.)