Words of My Mother

About a year after my father passed away.

Breakfast Nook

She looked at me, concerned, but
With a weariness of heart;
Then spoke these words,
Made sacred in her age:

“Life is for the living, son
The dead have played their part;
The play goes on
Although some leave the stage”

Dream Trailers

These things happen to me more and more lately.

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I see sometimes these fleeting scenes from
Dreams I never get to have
Constructed out of broken bits of
Of things I just half-saw

And watch these trailers as they run on
Into others, seamlessly;
Bright patches colored out of mist
In visions light, both rich and raw

My Compliments

To you, my dear one.

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I loved my dinner last night
Although I’m sure
More expensive meals were eaten
All over the world

I was perfectly happy
With the one I had
And would not have enjoyed
Any meal more

And, in the same way,
My love,
Know this:

From love comes pleasure

All pleasure is in the moment

And the moments I have with you
I would not replace
For any others
With anyone else

Because I’m perfectly happy

With you

Love Seance

Can we raise feelings from the dead?

Join hands
Let’s bring it back to life
The love that we once felt

The joy
Of your acceptance as
I there before you knelt

Perhaps
Connecting hands we can
Revive that which has died

And in
Our love trade sorrow for
The paradise
Inside

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The Affection Belt

Familiarity breeds affection, too.

Old Black Belt


I bought a belt
 when I was twenty-three

  Just plain and black
   and not too much to see

    And yet that belt
     as strange as it might sound

      Is like a friend
       who's followed me around

       Contempt comes from
      Familiarity?

      I'd rather say
     Affection, ratherly

    And so this belt
   For which I've no defense

 I love in ways
That make no earthly sense