“Playing tennis without a net,”
perhaps Robert Frost was right
Free Verse serves with no return,
day volleys into night
One long shot into the darkness,
an open end divide
Its message fades, an echo dim
—with silence to collide
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Priority
The first responsibility of Poetry
—is honesty
The second responsibility is to never
forget responsibility number one
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
One Final Bill
Sleeping through forgiveness…
I’m re-invoiced by the pain
The nightmare real, escape undone,
the reasons all to blame
Trapped within my memory,
each image haunts and preys
Excuses gone as judgment reigns
—one final bill to pay
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
Sighted Blind
My dog was hurt; he couldn’t hunt,
and left me in the field
To wander into aimlessness,
my prey as yet to yield
His nose was gone; the point was lost,
the tracks turned right then wrong
My gun recocked but sighted blind
—all certainty had gone
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
The Hunt
A gift inside the box...
one question left unanswered
Whose key to then unlock
lay distant—still unfound
(Baltimore Maryland: April, 2019)
The Coldest Muse
Married to his writing,
divorced from carnal love
The bodies flesh a token,
his words to rise above
All younger men still captive,
as lust demands anew
His passion burning molten hot
—to bed the coldest Muse
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)