One Word Of Hope (+9)

I’d rather write the truest book

  for just one man to read

 

Than draft that one of mass appeal

  to blush but never bleed

 

I’d rather speak that one great line

  to a canyon vast and wide

 

Than forever to recite mundane

  what an audience will comply

 

I’d rather die a poet’s death

  than an actors out on loan

 

I’d rather live within myself

  than in crowds where I’m alone

 

I’d rather give my last few breaths

  to that child at my knee

 

And leave with him one word of hope

  —that he may then set free

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

 

Deception

 

Yesterday and tomorrow…

  the same impostor

    —wearing different masks

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

 

 

Fame

 

Fame is

Contingent

On

One of two

Possibilities

 

Complete

Rebellion

Or

Absolute

Capitulation

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

 

 

The Title

 

The Poetry Of Friends

  The Music Of Love

 

The Beginning Of The End

  Death From Above

 

The Unwritten Word

  Wuthering Heights

 

All Truth Now Unheard

  A Thief In The Night

 

Advise And Consent

  A Darkening Sun

 

An Anthology Of Perception

  All Truth On The Run

 

A Book Never Lent

  A Farewell To Arms

 

With Time Better Spent

  Entranced By Your Charm

 

The Wind In The Willows

  The Catcher In The Rye

 

Death Calls You Silent

  The Long Goodbye

 

The Flight Out Of Nowhere

   A Midsummer Night’s Dream

 

That Someone To Care

  Islands In The Stream

 

The Reasons Left Unsettled

  To Loan Sacred Ground

 

Hansel And Gretel

  Once Lost And Then Found

 

One Unto Many

  Many Unto One

 

Befriending Your Enemy

  A Raisin In The Sun

 

The Russians Are Coming

  What Is To Be Done

 

The Fire Now Burning

  Fathers And Sons

 

All Freedom Aborting

  Last Link In The Chain

 

The Message Retorting

  A Universe Shamed

 

That Moment To Enslave

  Destiny’s Child

 

Lonely Are The Brave

  The Call Of The Wild

 

With Hope Now Asunder

  Lone Wolf At The Door

 

The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter

  —Our Final Encore

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2016)

 

 

Immunity

 

I’m a Poet…

 —I don’t have to explain

 

(North Wales Pennsylvania: May, 2019)

 

 

My Emptiness Whole

 

Late into the night,

  the characters become real

 

As the words that I’ve written,

  cement and congeal

 

Late into the night,

  they take over my soul

 

My reality transformed

  —my emptiness whole

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

 

Not For Loan

 

Stolen from eternity,

  the feelings would not lend themselves

    —to words

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

Turned Into Song

 

How open is your window,

  how tall is your door

 

How old is your virtue,

  how slippery your floor

 

How fresh is your perception,

  how broad is your scope

 

How clear is your reflection,

  how real is your hope

 

How strong is your commitment,

  how deep is your well

 

How solid are your friendships,

  how many pray tell

 

How sweet is your melody,

  how lyrical the dawn

 

Will your words play a rhapsody

  —once turned into song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

In The Wine

 

Starving within the memory of a feast     

  uneaten

 

My bread forever disappearing      

  —in the wine

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)

 

 

Imperfectly To Song

 

Like me,

 my Poetry is far from perfect

  —a verbal oxen gored

 

Like me,

 my words are often frail and broken

  —still crying to be heard

 

In me,

 the message has found its student

  —to humbly expound

 

In me,

 the truth can accept a birthmark

  —for a promise more profound

 

Unto me,

 the burden is left to finish

   —my life to pledge headlong

 

Unto me,

  the words now free, unsentenced

    —change imperfectly to song

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: September, 2016)