Heaven Its To Roam (+8)

To live life as a Poet,

to slay the demon time

 

Your spirit freed with every verse,

in meter and in rhyme

 

To reach beyond your passion,

to say what others feel

 

To bring tomorrow home today,

the devils wrath to reel

 

To wander past your memory,

returning once again

 

Each word a ticket through the gate,

its path relined with friends

 

Their faces each and every one,

a title to a poem

 

That left your hand so long ago

—with heaven its to roam

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

Heaven Only Knows

 

Vowed inside a rhythm,

married to each sound

 

The cadence plays a wedding march,

the rhyme to pledge out loud

 

Betrothed inside their union,

a love forever grows

 

Verses come and children play

—as heaven only knows

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

 

The Devil At The Gate

 

Does corruption blind intelligence,

does greed devour truth

 

Will intention cast the final vote,

its motives never moot

 

As David slew Goliath,

Lilliputians lie in wait

 

To bind and tie an Angels wings

—the Devil at the gate

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

Verse

 

The magic sublime

—is rhyme

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

The Treadmill

 

Slowing down the motor,

running low on gas

 

The lies, the HOV lane,

the truth off in the grass

 

The speed counterproductive,

it warps and then transforms

 

The magic in the stillness,

the beauty heaven born

 

The light becomes a blurring,

as darkness settles in

 

Till stepping off the madness,

and travelling within

 

That fatal rush to judgment,

a quiet now sustains

 

One choice to stop the treadmill

—all motion rearranged

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

 

The Shadow

 

That laughter you hear in the background

—death following closely behind

 

(Villanova University: July, 2019)

 

 

Never Yours To Lose

 

Like eating your own cooking,

do you favor what you write

 

Do the words digest completely,

the stove again to light

 

As you walk that final mile,

in those shabby cobblers shoes

 

Will you then embrace at last

—what was never yours to lose

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

 

Most Are Lost

 

Are you the movie or the commercial,

the story or its cost

 

The question quite subversive

—in its drama most are lost

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

 

 

Unoriginal Sin

 

Did you flavor it with Hemingway,

or season it with Thoreau

 

Did you structure it like Eliot,

or was Melville more your go

 

The rocks you choose to stand upon,

supports to look beyond

 

As you add your face onto the mountain,

new words inscribed in song

 

Past voices serve to push you,

to that place you’ve never been

 

Where your breath may cleanse forever,

the stain

—of unoriginal sin

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)