Monday, January 17, 2022



A walk in the forest

Along a rocky path

Worn by generations

Amidst towering pines


A wind whispers

Through the trees

A fox is startled

and scampers away


Conifer aroma

Fills my environment

Making the day

And life worthwhile


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Tuesday, January 4, 2022



She was not the most beautiful,

he was far from the handsomest

In first meeting,

they were linked


Everything fades,

the day into night,

youth into age

Love often declines,

theirs never did


Clearly, a mystery

How do some loves survive

while many others don’t

They didn’t seek the answer,

just enjoyed the outcome

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Thursday, December 16, 2021



Well-written novels

With classic plots

Comfort my mind


Well-written films

With gripping plots

Are so pleasurable


Well-written poetry

With singing lines

Makes my soul soar

Wednesday, November 24, 2021



If perfection be a thought

Then I’ll think of thee as such

I’ll raise you to a Goddess

I’ll drop myself to dust

The sun shall be your subject

The moon shall be your throne

Your heaven shall exist

Within my mind

May it ever be your home

(Note: I wrote this poem 68 years ago when I was 19.

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



Monday, November 8, 2021

TOGETHER, a poem



Songs we sang together

spin through my mind,

lingering memories

of those happy times

With you


Walking all alone

to our park now

rouses a hunger

for those happy times

With you


Our breakfast table

began the feast

in my daily life

of those happy times

With you


Wednesday, October 20, 2021

INTO the RAGBAG, a poem


For thousands of mornings

over the past 40 years

my blue and gray jacket

has shielded me against

the first chill of each day


Part of an ensemble,

somehow along the way

the pants were discarded

The jacket stayed with me

worn into my old age


Warming my upper body

after I arose from bed

through the many many years

Finally, ashes for me

a ragbag for my jacket


Wednesday, October 6, 2021



Together for four decades,

our destinies are coupled

When his aging soul departs

will I be torn into rags

before being discarded


Born in a sweat shop,

mostly blue and gray,

a woman who loved him

presented me to him

He named me ‘my jacket’


Every cool morning,

he always put me on,

relishing my warmth

Oh, how he treasures me

He named me ‘my jacket’