CALLING ERATO, a poem

Where are you muse?

Please come whisper

gold in my ear

What would great Shakespeare

have done without you?

I sit patiently poised

awaiting Erato,

goddess of poetry,

to plant sweet phrases

in my anxious mind

Help me sing songs

to my true love

I will write down

your inspiring words

engendering romance

NEVER MORE

          Alone with my thoughts

          and the memories

          of what once was

          but is no more

          Time and geography

          parted us forever

          so we may remember

          but reconnect, never

         

ONE NIGHT

          She knew with a glance

          she had found romance

          knowing she would seize her chance

          before the night was over

for a lovely phallic dance

          There could be no regret

          She would never forget

          her uninhibited pleasure

of a joy beyond measure

          a memory to treasure

          When her body grew old

          in bed alone and cold

she would long to dream

of that romantic flight

          lasting for just one night

SO COMFORTABLE, a poem

While Mother Nature roars

outside my patio door

rain, snow, howling wind

I drink my coffee

in a cozy kitchen

While the heads of state

kill soldiers and civilians

with their bullets and bombs

I watch television

in a cozy easy chair

What can anyone do to stop

the slaughter of innocents

other than wish and pray?

Perhaps cast a single vote

in a cozy polling place

THE MIRROR, a poem

The idol, his foremost trait is greed

a voracious appetite for wealth

praise, purchased sex, gross food

His admirers are warped

striving to emulate him

Cheering his selfishness

as a towering achievement

his bold narcissism

as worthy of imitation

a reflection of themselves

In an age of i-shopping

i-phones, i-everything

an I-president has emerged

Ever ready to say

I am perfect

CRY ERTIA, a poem

          Ertia

          my new word

          my new cry

          to stir me   

          from my easy chair

          I often sat

          in the tight grip

          of my inertia

          unable to stir

          from my easy chair

          Like a comic book hero

          I needed a magic word

          to shout aloud

          to propel me

          from my easy chair

          Ertia

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THE POISED WOMAN, a poem

          She was poised and thoughtful

          was she thinking of me?

          Were her thoughts to be free?

          Woman of mystery

          The connubial bond

          held our lives together

          in fun and excitement

          even stormy weather

          Yet a free-thinking mind

          can break any tether.

          The weight of her fealty

          was light as a feather

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