Friday, December 18, 2020

A WILTING BRAIN

 

        Struggling for the name

          of the sweet singing bird,

my ever-wilting brain

awaits a sudden spark

of minor memory

 

To every man and woman,

this form of mild dementia

cometh soon or late,

becoming ever worse

as we wait at the gate

 

Like Horatius of old,

I now stand ready to fight,

wielding a creative sword,

forged of my poetry against

the darkening of my light

 

Many readers will recognize the influences of Thomas Babington MacAulay’s THE LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME and Dylan Thomas’ DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT on this poem.

A suggestion: try my novel, THE JYNX, on Kindle

         

Tuesday, December 8, 2020

EVOLUTION

 

        The cave dweller:

 

          The hunter makes the kill,

brings home the meat

          to fill the needing bellies

          especially for the woman

who bakes new predators

 

The 1950s:

 

          The earner labors

bringing home money

to pay for needs,

freeing the woman

to serve the family

 

Modern times:

 

          The baker of babies

          remembering the glory

          showered on the hunter

          acquires the weapons

          needed for fulfillment


A suggestion: try my novel, THE HERO, on Kindle


Wednesday, November 25, 2020

QUESTIONS BEFORE DYING

 

I wonder if Ginger will be waiting for me

when I cross the line?

Or if I will find a greater love

from a previous time?

I wonder if Ginger will have a number

of loves from the past

and I will have a similar collection?

I wonder if the drives and desires of life

on earth will be gone?

I wonder if we will be like amoebas

collected into the Godhead?

I wonder if the other side is blankness

with no awareness

like a deep sleep?

A suggestion: try my novel, OOOEELIE, on Kindle


Thursday, November 12, 2020

REFLECTNG on a PICASSO

 

The grim old age

of the woman

in the mirror

with her orange tear

How cruel Pablo

 

Did you invite a fecund,

pretty girl to foresee

what surely lies ahead

by lingering with you

How cruel Pablo

 

Or was that her psyche

you were portraying

with a grim image

gazing back at her

How cruel Pablo

 

(Inspired by Pablo Picasso’s “Girl Before A Mirror”)

A suggestion: try my novel, OOOEELIE, on Kindle

 

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

HAPPY COUPLE

 

          A kiss upon waking

          What a wonderful way

          To begin every day

          Familiar tongues touching

          In sex sensual play

 

          Coming in the door

          After a long day

          Of tedious work

          The welcoming kiss

          a delightful perk

 

          Dinner with wine

Talk of our day

          Climbing the stairs

          Into our bed

          for sleep and play


A suggestion: try my novel, THE TRUCKERS, on Kindle

          

Monday, October 26, 2020

BESIEGED by COVID-19

 

          Staying in the house

          is the best defense.

          The fierce destroyer

          lurks outside, waiting

          for a foolish sally

 

          Don’t ever confront

this ruthless enemy,

ready to impose

suffering and death

on the unwise ones

 

          The vaccine is coming

          so, the best strategy

          is to patiently wait

          for a medical shield,

          then herd immunity


A suggestion: try my novel, THE PENCIL ARTIST, on Kindle

 

Sunday, October 18, 2020

EVERY DAY

 

         The cauldron bubbles below

Hungry for my old body

with painful wavering legs

Balancing on the tightrope

Stretched across the bottomless

 

Brief respite lies ahead

On the too narrow ledge

Of my lingering life

Before I must return

To the daily journey

 

In my youth the path

Was broad and inviting

Leading to spacious

Grassy rolling hills

With beautiful views

A suggestion try my novel, BEN CONNOLLY in the PARIS COMMUNE, on Kindle

 

 

 

         

         

Sunday, October 4, 2020

LEGS, a poem

 

          Featherlike I floated

          on my powerful legs

          through a long life,

          jogging for miles,

          bounding up stairs

         

          Now, a boulder

on the precipice

of real old age

expecting to fall

into the abyss

 

A tumble lies ahead

to vanish weightlessly

into whatever future

mysteriously awaits

after my earthly journey

Wednesday, September 23, 2020

HER SMILE, a poem

 

Her sparkling smile

brightens my world

like a burst of spring

after a grim winter

 

The sap of desire

flows within me

flooding my being

with hunger for her

 

Her happy expression

creates an environment

in which we flourish

nurturing our love

 

         


Thursday, September 10, 2020

DEATH on FIFTH AVENUE

 

         Chanting joyfully

          and fearlessly too

          Her face uncovered

          rallying for him

          And all he would do

 

          A great America

was their ultimate goal

No mask for him or her

Stand up as patriots

being so brave and bold

 

The enthusiasm she felt

burned so painfully away

when deadly covid gripped her

A contagious viral predator

insatiably seeking prey


A suggestion: try my novel, THE DREAM DANCER, on Kindle


Tuesday, September 8, 2020

AFTERWORLD, a poem



I ask what lies ahead:
a blank, a heaven/hell
return to the godhead
or reunion with those
I cherished in this world

          Will I find myself
          rejoining the love
of my current life
          or greeting partners
          from previous lives

          The idyllic outcome
          arriving over there
would be to join Ginger
before a dancing fire,
sipping Irish Whiskey  

A suggestion: try my novel, THE DREAM DANCER, on Kindle

                   

Wednesday, August 26, 2020

CHOOSING, a poem


          Life’s eternal puzzle
           Lies before every youth
In the future’s thicket
            What to do, where to go

            The burden of decision
            Rests on the individual
            Limited by circumstance
            Of class and education

            Will your time be well spent
            on a worthwhile pursuit
            of achievement in art,
            politics, or service

A suggestion: try my novel, THE JYNX, on Kindle

Friday, August 14, 2020

MESMERIZED, a poem

 

         She looked across the room

          snaring me in a silky

web of lasting desire,

a mesmerizing bond

catching me forever

 

Our cocoon of love

pressed us together

in a world of pleasure

where her sweet smile

mirrored our happiness

 

Our charmed journey

continues despite death,

a spiritual connection

forged by her last words:

“I love you”


A suggestion: try my novel, THE HERO, on Kindle


Sunday, July 26, 2020

THE BIRD BATH, a poem



The water is a joy
To splash and thrash
Sprinkling the patio
The Robin Red Breast
Bathes in pleasure

Refilling the bowl
Atop the pedestal
Depends on the whim
Or daily habits
Of the voyeur

Like the king of old
Spying on Bathsheba
The voyeur relishes
The beauty of the Robin
Innocently enjoying life

A suggestion: try my novel, THE ABSCONDER, on Kindle

 


Tuesday, July 14, 2020

CRISIS POINT, a poem



         We took separate paths,
          trekking an arid land
          in sight of one another,
          otherwise unconnected

          Our expressions blank.
our tongues parched,
          pressing on without joy
          toward our crisis point
         
          At the crossroad, I asked,
Continue alone or together
She smiled, eyes sparkling,
holding hands, we walked
           into a verdant future

A suggestion: try my novel, THE TRUCKERS, on Kindle

 

         

Sunday, July 5, 2020

HERMAN BENSON, UNION DEMOCRACY HERO


Herman Benson spent most of his long life on an endless quest: to make unions better through democracy. He died last week at age 104 still working to fulfill that noble goal.
          Five decades ago, Benson founded the Association for Union Democracy, a small but potent organization that has played a huge role in helping and inspiring reformers in the unending struggle to oust passive or crooked union officials.
          Benson’s crowning achievement came in 1991 when along with labor lawyer Susan Jennik, then AUD’s executive director, convinced a judge to direct a court-appointed elections officer to oversee every aspect of the first rank and file election for the top officers of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters.
Reformers were convinced that without outside supervision the union hierarchy and their local union allies would have rigged the election to keep the old guard in power. Instead, a clearly-honest election resulted in the late Ron Carey becoming international president of the IBT.
Local unions should be building blocks of democracy with Herman Benson remembered as the visionary of that ideal.
  
         
         


         

Friday, June 26, 2020

HEAVEN on EARTH



What is heaven?
Here on earth
heaven is a good breakfast
where the taste lingers
on your tongue
and sates your appetite,
Heaven is in a glass
of cold water,
in a sunset,
in a good roll in bed,
in a look between
a man and a woman,
in a good book,
in walking free
through fields of wheat,
in a work of art
that reaches inside you;
Heaven is in a moment.



Saturday, June 13, 2020

MY RESERVOIR, a poem



My reservoir of words
of English with smatterings
of French, German, Italian,
and Spanish with bits
of Farsi and Arabic
available at my call
throughout my life
were collected from parents
from school, from books, from films
from conversations, from theater
from dictionaries and thesauruses
          The right word, the right phrase
          flowed at will
          into my novels, poems, articles
and conversations
then old age struck
The wanted words
slow in coming
or even blocked
by feeble recall
My reservoir remains full
but difficult to access


Wednesday, June 3, 2020

INFATUATION, a poem



         The rivulet flowed
          from within them
          widening into a brook
          tumbling comfortably
          into a stream swelling
          with a growing power
          into a river roaring
          violently to the sea
          and it was over



Sunday, May 24, 2020

TIME'S UP, a poem



Donald, your dream fulfilled:
your name sadly is on
every cable news show
in tribute or dismay
So, time to leave

Donald, you have spent
your presidency
in ugly twittering
shrinking the USA
So, time to leave

Prior presidents spent
all their time in office
dealing with grave problems,
not spellbound by cable
so, time to leave

Monday, May 18, 2020

BEDTIME, a poem

       
Lying abed, unable to sleep,
          gripped by this nightly discomfort
          I want to slip into the void
hoping for interesting dreams

Counting my breathes to plunge
me into a night land
brimming with adventures
for my uncontrolled mind

On awakening in morning
ofttimes recalling unbidden dreams
          with pleasure or some disquiet
          Lying abed, unable to rise
         
         
         

Monday, May 11, 2020

UNFORTUNATELY FDR, a poem



         There is plenty to fear
          He might be reelected
          along with the peril
of reshaping America
into what he awfully is

Oh, if only we could
call forth our giants
from the other side
to guide us again
to a decent America

George Washington
Benjamin Franklin
Teddy Roosevelt
Abraham Lincoln
Franklin Delano Roosevelt

Thursday, April 30, 2020

LONG LOVING


She was the heady stuff
          Of elite human beings
          Thinking her own thoughts
          Living her own life
          Being a modern woman

          She was all mine
          To a limited extent
          I was all hers
          To a limited extent
          In an old-fashioned marriage

          Life was splendid
          When we were one
          Dissatisfaction did bring        
Trying times on occasion
In our long loving marriage