Falling leaves mark the beginning
of natures fast . . .
Winter is coming
Hear her icy bell blowing distance
through your memory,
as trees half naked
spot the ground with clearer vision
“Oh alas, the winds of autumn run
captive through my soul,
And place the stones in order
spring doth disavow
Whose cold reprieve an answer grants
in frosted shortened light,
To spread new life upon this breast,
—and natures womb”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 1977)
From Year To Year
To catch you in my rhythm,
ensnare you in my rhyme
To make the meter come alive,
and pull you out of time
With lines that end so sweetly,
words pleasant to your ear
For you to carry past today,
and sing from year to year
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
The Prose Waits
If you finally struck gold
And were digging out the mine
Would you leave it for a month
And come back to what you’d find
That’s the way I feel each day
Being blessed to write this verse
The prose insanely waiting,
—for my voice to then reverse
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
My Wait Begins Again
I turn my collar up against the wind
and place my eyes along the skyline
Hoping in the darkness for some sign of you,
a colder truth I’ve never known
I pull my jacket tight across my chest
and watch the waves crash upon your shadow
Knowing the tide is like your receding heart,
washing my footsteps from the sand
The sun has now gone, the moon in flight,
and my hopes rise o’er the waves
My collar frozen and my soul on fire,
—as my wait begins again
(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)
Gifting Sight
There just below the surface,
more present than you know
A prophetic Jeremiah,
tracks leading through the snow
His message serves to buttress,
those standing in the light
A pipeline to eternity,
—his vision gifting sight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Nothing But Pretend
Driven by my message,
settled by the score
Riveting exposure,
fastening secure
Words burning through my memory,
reminding once again
The past and future just a myth,
—and nothing but pretend
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Within Her Breath
The Muse more than my mistress,
the Muse more than my friend
The Muse more than a guardian,
the Muse my blood within
She no longer comes to visit,
she only comes to stay
Each wish I make, each word I write,
—within her breath I pray
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Out Of Sight
Rewired, and now poetic,
my words light up the night
And cast the darkness back to hell,
—the demon out of sight
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)
Only To The Brave
Utopia belongs to the fleet of heart
but the truth,
--- only to the brave
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)