I give you what I have in posts For we are poor in other ways; We walk along the waterside And dream of nights, amid these days, Of multitude, and lassitude, And attitude, and power: A sun that shines on shoulders cold, A view atop the tower …
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She shines like neon, Colorful, Reflected on The city streets She sounds like rhythm, Audible, The feet that move, The heart that beats She’s still the light that guides me home, The reason that I love the night; A better kind of power, that Makes sun seem …
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So little we agree on in this fragmented nation; division is a herald of our greater consternation — except for this one thing, I think: requiring no ablation — and that’s when this stuff’s crunchy, it’s an abomination
We are born desiring, wanting; Seldom does that really change. Though our scenery may vary — Furniture we’ll rearrange — Never does the longing leave us, Nor our restless hearts feel full: Everyday the pushing, tugging, Every breath, the constant pull Of a striving deep within us. Reaching for, and reaching past Every happy thing …
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The family’s meeting soon. Last year, This air was entering some lungs That are no more in use, and we Were shopping at a store that’s Closed its doors. That’s as may be: once, these Were woods, before that, maybe Swamp. We can recall ‘before’; Just not the ‘before’ before ‘before’. But our perspective Typically …
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Son, let’s have it be understood: It’s work to be worthy of somebody good. To be kind, and be strong, and to understand — To do what it takes to be this kind of man — This is the voyage. It’s part of your walk: To matter in action, and not just in talk. For …
Continue reading "She‘ll Be The One"
The holidays are closing in: So much expected to be done. Our lives are complicated, no? But pictures seem so simple — A child playing on the ice. November in the cold Ukraine: With frozen trees upon the hill And joy upon her face — But imagery can be a trap, Just symbols on a …
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“You can be anything,” she said, In a quiet moment before bed, But the child could see some sadness there And so asked, “Mom, what’s wrong?” The mother paused with a distant stare, As though she could see someone standing there; And said, “You could be President, for sure, …
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I love to see you laugh I think I have a stupid laugh What? I sound like a donkey. And I snort. It’s embarrassing I love your voice. I notice you didn’t say, “laugh” I love the sound of your laugh, seriously. You don’t get tired of it? No. It’s when you’ve stopped laughing That …
Continue reading "Sketches – 70"