Snapshot: A Woman on the Bus

The days are hard, She’s tired, and Frustrated; A better life — For so long, now, She’s waited — She’s more and more An animal Who’s sessile — She’s sui generis But not That special — The scenery Goes by, and she’s Reflecting — Another day Of talk without Connecting — A worker’s job – … Continue reading "Snapshot: A Woman on the Bus"

On Silver Sunsets

We danced on silver sunsets that We only got a peek of From inside of a secret room That only we can speak of. But I think she’s forgotten now, As least that thought occurs From silver sunsets in my eyes I cannot find In hers

Too Young to Know

When you’re too young to know, But old enough to feel, The anger is too much, And emptiness, too real. When daddy’s angry voice Is ringing off the ceiling, ‘s No wonder that so many Of our boys give up Feeling

Slipped Away

The world, for him, has slipped away. He sold it for some bits of string: It hasn’t hit him – not today – That he’s devoid of everything That gave his life some meaning, and Could build a house of more than sand; Instead, he chases his ideal And gives up all he has That’s … Continue reading "Slipped Away"


A vineyard’s barren yearly. That doesn’t mean it’s dead — Sometimes we must turn in to grow, But this can be misread By those who think that empty vines Are death just masquerading — Instead of knowing wine will come, And that it’s worth The waiting

Our Bit

Outlandish as the summer sea That found us at this time and place, We lived our bit of fantasy And ran our bit of race. For day on day and skin on skin, We breathed in time the message in: To ride the moments as they fly For just like summer days, They die

The Moon Is Not A Terrorist

The moon is not a terrorist; in fact, She often visits both the poor and sick. Although she has a schedule that is packed, And often deals with clouds that can be thick, She’s regular. And knowing that’s the trick: The moon is true, not subject to caprice, And that should bring no fear, but … Continue reading "The Moon Is Not A Terrorist"

Frozen Rows

I stand amid the frozen rows, And think of long-lost friends; Where stones line up just like these trees And sorrow never ends I stand amid the winter gloom, A hush is on the clearing, I guess that I could join them all, But I’m not volunteering