Free Verse
What? An
ordinary guy?
Well, she said, I
am
An extraordinary woman
And you say you are
what? an ordinary guy?
In love with me?
you know I have seen
a lot of cowboys,
outlaws and heroes,
but, an ordinary solid guy
with the courage
to love himself and me.
guess it takes some kind
of spiritual john wayne
so get your swagger on
and mosie on down here
to California and lets see
if you are an ordinary guy
in love with me
the wedding took place
fifty years ago
they met through
an ad in the P.I.
She is still an
extraordinary woman
in his eyes. He still
has a John Wayne
swagger in her eyes.
Damn You!
After you said in
September
A year ago, “don’t call me,
I won’t call you”
And I said, “Don’t fantasize about me”...
There you were on your birthday
And so many Wednesdays and Sundays
And other days and since then
I am at breakfast on Sunday
In my favorite café
And you pour in on me again
All warm and cuddly and sexy
Lighting up every nerve,
Every fiber of my being,
Every hope and dream
I have ever had for or about
You and I.
I watched the moon set this morning
You were there—
You don’t call and I won’t
But I will go to the dunes.
Remember the dunes?
I know you remember
And I will dance you home to me...
I know it’s December—
I know the moon is full—
I will dance naked in the moonlight...
I will call you from my heart.
The sand is warm and the surf roars.
I know you hear my call
—
I know you feel my dance...
Is your heart filled with longing?
Does your body crave my touch?
I am dancing alone...
Moonlight and mist
Caress me...
I am calling you from my heart.
Will you
Answer my call?
Lost Colors
Lost Colors
my Dear Friend
I cherished our laughter
Our times together
Working and, I thought,
Enjoying life
with you through
Family trauma, drama,
laughter, love
And your devastating affair—
I stood by offering whatever
Lifeline I had at hand.
One day you let me know
That I was less than you—
My life was an adventure
I spent, wisely or not,
Following my heart.
Like you, A single Mother,
An ordinary working woman—
Ahh, but my tapestry
Has a multitude of shimmering
Colors, a palette perhaps only seen
By artists, lovers, adventurers.
Dark caves, glorious storm tossed
Shores, mossy places with tall
Trees, babbling brooks, warm tropical beaches,
Fountains in the center of the square
Where pigeons are fed and beggars
Wait quietly with their bowls.
All the pageantry of life fills
My life, my heart, my memory.
Colors I give life with words
Of my adventures and mis-adventures
And you have a blank page dated,
Mounted, in a gilded frame.
Haiku
Winter sky
Faded wine stain
It was a very good year
Christmas lights
Folks bundled
Rushing against the cold
Christmas Tree
Late dark night
So quiet
You can almost hear
The snowflakes drifting
Lazily from the sky
The tree is finished
All the ornaments
And lights in place
What is this technology
Of electricity and glass
Echoing the Druid belief
In renewal?
I see the magic in it
As we waken a child
From slumber tiptoeing
Into a darkened room
Whispering, our hearts
In anticipation.
The lights blink on
All a sparkle and glow
Sleepy babe blinks
Wriggling with joy
Shouting, “Oh Boy”.
Silvery Light
Some sort of silvery
light
And a feeling
of being anesthetized—
you can't talk or move
or get up and run away—
the smell of new cardboard
or cordite assails your nostrils—
the small knot of terror
in your gut mushrooms
and fills every cell
of your being—
you can’t scream—
sometimes it all
goes blank sometimes not
then you are suddenly back
in your room, on the walk home
or at the dining table.
Time is lost, unexplained
and no one knows what happened.
In your heart you know,
in some tiny chamber
of your mind you remember
and you can’t tell anyone—
those people whom you love
who love you will judge—
and the terror of telling
becomes as great as the
terror of the abduction.
