A poem is never truly finished…
a song never finally sung
Words lay silent as yet unspoken
fresh voices—new races to run
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Lying There
Basking in the glow
of what already happened
I wait for the explosion
—of that yet to come
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
Master Of It All
Should God destroy a mountain
because you’re afraid of heights
Should the sun stay fixed forever
to keep away the night
Should the birds all sing in unison
drowning out the siren’s call
Should the questions all have answers
—with you master of it all
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
My Garden
I made myself a wastrel
an orphan of my choice
And severed all my family ties
in search of my own voice
I left without once looking back
the present straight ahead
The past redundant, future flawed
to butter my own bread
The years have come with decades gone
old memories buried deep
Of times when I was young and hurt
to dream but not to sleep
New breezes blow, fair winds to call
the children come and go
As here I sit with no regrets
—my garden fully hoed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)