Choosing to Become

As a teenage boy, I didn’t realize
The degree to which some girls, every day,
Turn themselves into works of art.

I only ever saw
The finished product, and I
Assumed girls looked the way they did
Having expended as little effort as I had.

(My sister was much older, and
Taught me nothing useful about girls.)

My father, however, did tell me,
By the time I was in college, that
It was possible, even if I was buying a date dinner,
That she had spent more on the evening than I had.

My father was, among many other things,
An artist, a painter –
He loved beauty, and
Understood it in ways I have yet to.

The creation of self is
An activity we all indulge in, every day;
Some of us more consciously than others.

Now, when I turn to look at you
On a day like this,
Your beauty is all the more striking,
Because I know it consists both
Of who you are
And you are choosing to become.

And it is miraculous
To me

Near Night

Waves caress the yielding sands
Like two together, holding hands

The sea receives the sun’s last kiss
As gulls cry of forgotten bliss

The tumult that was lately felt
Has faded with the dying day

As night approaches, with its gift
A belle chanson de liberté


(“Near Night” – 10/12/2014)

Beautiful, Sad

the world is beautiful and sad,

i see it as i wander by;

the good things that we want – so bad –

our reason – just an alibi –

 

the aching heart will know no peace;

the tired soul will find no rest —

the world is beautiful, but sad:

our worst is so mixed up in

all our best