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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TIME, a poem

          What do people do

          with their unused time

          not eaten by work

          leaden or sublime

          Some strive to be creative

          Most merely spend or enjoy

          insignificant pursuits

          consuming their precious days

         

          Whatever the endeavor

          Time’s sands certainly swallow

          all but rare celebrations

          of somebodies and some bards

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GRIEVING, a poem

          Real men don’t cry

          tell that to my eyes

          filling with tears

          when I speak her name

          I loved her so much

          Fire consumed the shell

          that contained her spirit

          Mix my ashes with hers

          around the rock and path

          I loved her so much

          Perhaps soulmates

          are earthly fantasies

          that disappear in death

          There is this certainty

          I loved her so much

         

           ====

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MOURNING, a poem

          I should have mourned her

          when she fell into the abyss

          three torturous years ago

          leaving only forlorn cries

          for a life that once was hers

          I want to go home

          Why am I like this

          Did I do something wrong

          Nobody likes me

          Don’t kill me

          Don’t leave me

          Her sad pleas are silenced

          my heart forever torn

          the time has come to mourn

          she remains in my mind

          lovely, caring, refined

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