GLOBAL SHRIVELING, a poem

                  The rage of nature

                  the floods of Texas

                  the hurricane of Florida

                  the devastation of Puerto Rico

                  the fires of California

                  Earth’s revenge

                  grimly thrashes

                  with howlinge winds

                  with quaking earth

                  with leaping fires

                  Fecund world into

                  barren fields

                  empty seas

                  broiling suns

                  shriveling mankind

                  (Oct. 15, 2017)

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JOURNEY’S END, a poem

          I took the pen

          she gave me

          to write without

          looking back

          become the writer

          not the reciter

          I stand on the

          shore of the Styx

          to paddle without

          looking back;

          become the ferryman

          and the ferried

          I weigh the balance

          of unworthy debt

          no obolus beneath

          my tongue;

          become the creator

          of my golden bough

          (Oct. 10, 2017. This poem was written six years ago by the protagonist in my novel, THE ABSCONDER. It was inspired by a woman he loved, but was forced to abandon to escape the possibility of being returned to prison. In his new life he became a noted poet.)

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THREE KINDS of LOVE, a poem

          Body on fire

          with youthful desire

          Uncertain lips meeting

          in sexual greeting

          Ending unrequitedly

          The illicit kiss

          leads amiss

          The passionate connection

          thrives absent inspection

          Ending without joy

         

          An invitation to dance

          leads to romance

          The craving is sealed

          with a fulfilling yield

          Ending with lasting love

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LOST FOREVERMORE, a poem

          

          I want to go home

          the pathetic plea

          of the demented

          Caregivers sadly

          listen helplessly

          There is no going home

          the longed-for mother

          is gone beyond reach

          the childhood pleasures

          lost forevermore

          Going for a drive

          diverts attention

          For a while the plea

          is gone then returns

          I want to go home

          (Oct. 2, 2017. Seemingly common to all dementia victims is a hunger to go home to the nonexistent house where their mothers still dwell in their happy childhoods.) 

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Thoughts on THE NATURALIST by Andrew Mayne

       THE NATURALIST is a whodunit worth reading just to meet Dr. Theodore Cray, a college professor/scientist whose inquiring mind evolves him into a tenacious sleuth.

        Spurred by guilt feelings that his teaching might have led one of his former students, a brilliant researcher, into circumstances that resulted in her murder, Cray sets out to uncover what happened to her.

        At the outset, police consider Cray a suspect, because he knew the dead woman. He is quickly released when a perfuntory autopsy lead the police to believe a bear is the killer. The setting for this novel is Montana.

        Cray’s speciality is bioinformatics, which combines advanced computer programs with biology. As he says of himself: “As a scientist, I observe, I analyze. I make guesses.”

        With that background, Cray first decides a human not a bear killed his student. The police, of course, sneer at his conclusion. Then he sets off on a hunt with an extraodinary outcome, in this well-plotted, nicely-written whodunit, that is a pleasure to read.

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MY DAY, a poem

          

         What is there

          to say

          nothing happens

          in my day

          Evenings are much

          the same

          no one else

          to blame

          Treasure pleasure

          in taking

          life’s measure

          ignore the aching

                   (Aug. 22, 2017)

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A WOMAN IN WINTER, a poem

          

          Life has burned away

          leaving a body in disarray

          a woman grown very old

          suffering never-ending cold

          Every day is wintertime

          gone is the warmth so sublime

          no longer a promise of spring

          to make the aged soul sing

          Does celebration or doom

          await in the misty gloom

          no knows what lies ahead

          ignore all trivial dread

                              (Aug. 2, 2017)

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