There in the graying
lurking just behind,
its dark presence felt
in the lengthened shadows
cast by eve’s fading twilight.
Dare I chance
a glance back
hoping to check the harvester’s
quickening approach
the scythe’s relentless swing.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 2:24 PM UTC
.
Was that the last
walking away, so
dreadfully determined
having left so much unsaid.
A pause, just before
slipping silently out of sight
then, a slight turn of her head,
a glance back
knowing or hoping
you’re still there
standing watching
confirming continuum.
perhaps.
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
When I go to heaven
I want to see my dogs.
all of them, such faithful companions.
How do you say goodby to such friends
Peter my first
a beagle, stubborn, a hunter with
the basset from across the street
white tipped tail faithfully wagging
as I returned each day from School.
Then Sampson, a blond Belgium Sheppard
Huge, faithful only to me
jumped the fence too many times
of the church pre-school across the street
wanting only to be part of the play
then too protective of our new born and
at 190 pounds too large for our small apartment
Then found in England,
Beouf Beouf McTavish
a Yorkshire terrier that for some reason was
four times the Yorkey normal size
He thought he was a lion
jumped into the Canal in Camden town
chasing ducks. We pulled him out and it
took three baths to clean him.
He loved to attack my next door neighbor
after we returned from England
who he had taken a dislike to
as my neighbor warily walked his dachshund
up and down our small cul-de-sac.
Then there was Boober, an Irish setter,
beautiful, but wild and dumb.
who loved to just run and then
pounce on our next door neighbor’s wife
who seemed to love the affection.
Booper true to his Irish temper, never obeyed
Then our Goldens
the perfect pets frolicking with our growing children
Brandy and Blake, the first pair
Brandy the runt of the litter
gentle and loving
so loved by my wife who always loved an underdog.
Blake the larger of the pair
my favorite, large and bold,
constantly bounding about
bullying Brandy
Faster, he got there first when a car didn’t stop
and lay bleeding in my arms
tears cascading down my eyes
too late to save him.
Then Brandy followed when years later
Cancer and she just stopped
She Watched faithfully as
the vet came to the house and peacefully put her down.
we planted a small tree over her grave and mourned.
Last was Maggie, another Golden,
loved by all, beautiful, intelligent,
affectionate, going everywhere with me
to the dump, where they gave her a cookie,
to the beach where she chased ***** until
I became tired and needed to head home, knowingly
she defiantly swam just out of reach, back and forth,
as try as I might to get her to come out, she’d defy.
Now there all passed on to doggy heaven where
I hope I’ll find them when I too move on.
they’ll respond to my call
faithfully bounding across a heavenly lawn
returning gleefully to their aged master.
“Come on blue, You good dog you, I’m coming too”.
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
October 1
Autumn’s arrived so suddenly
her colorful blush upon leaves
soon to fall amid ripened gourds
lying in our small garden
where strong trunks of
brussels have begin small sprouts
beneath giant leaves.
At my feeder, birds no longer nibble
daintily, but gorge, filling for southbound flights
rain beats against my roof
in the now chilling air.
Where summer with its warmth?
Tomatoes too late to ripen, remain green,
bumble bees sit heavily on the few remaining flowers
hoping for warmth’s returning beam,
while honey bees finding my Cimicifuga racemosa’s
white scented floral spray
busily gather its last remaining nectar
for their winter nests
somewhere in my woods.
And I now out of my Bermuda shorts
and colorful short sleeved shirts
don long legged corduroys, an old sweater
smelling slightly of moth ***** to
begin the chore of gathering the garden
furniture’s pillows, turning off the sprinkler
putting away the hose.
It’s time to remove the two ultraviolet lamps
from my ponds water pumps lest freezing break the bulbs.
Koe fish, less interested now in my daily feeding
rise to the surface in the cooling water
more slowly as if preparing for sleep.
I marvel at their ability to simply
lie under the soon to be frozen water
to await spring.
We humans don’t have such patience.
We gather logs for our winter fires
remove screens and windowed air conditioners
check the furnace’s pilot light and search among the eves for
boots and scarves and gloves.
Autumn soon to be Winter
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
His senses heightened, on alert
He drives through this neighborhood
Who are these people, he wonders.
They hate me, I’d have no chance out there
Thank god I’m armed.
One the street, a bunch of kids, teenagers
Laughing at each others jives
Fall into silence as the cop car drives past
Giving them the bad eye.
Just another ************ waiting
For an excuse to take us down.
He returns their stares, wondering
Are they selling drugs, planning something
Or just kids on a summer’s eve?
He thinks of his own son out
In a different neighborhood, safe.
The he gets the dispatch call,
Store robbed, two black kids
Teenagers, in his area,
Its his to respond
No time for back up,
Only the growing darkness
And a tingle of fear, adrenaline pumping
He steps from the safety of his car
Loosening his holster strap in anticipation.
Down the street a store ‘s alarm is ringing
The kids sensing trouble take off
Two men come running towards him
They’re large, just kids really, but big
Drawing his sidearm
He yells at them to stop,
They’re surprised, not sure what to do
He’s scared, they seem so big in the twilight
It almost automatic, right out of his combat training
He shoots and then again, and again
As the assailant’s momentum keeps him coming
And then he sees too late,
its just an unarmed kid
Police used to walked the neighborhoods,
Smile say hallo or good morning.
Stop at homes of the old
Checking to see if everything was all right
Used to know the kids, supported them in their games
Sometimes even helped parents
Importantly they were seen as being there to help
Knew the neighborhoods and were in turn known.
Now they ride in cars, gazing dumbly
Out of bullet proof windows.
While outside strangers mingle
Often the only contact, violence and arrests
No wonder, armed like soldiers
Triggered by fear of the unknown
They ****
We need to get close again.
Have them on the streets in our neighborhoods
We need to take the time to know them and they us
To invite them into our homes
Out of their isolating cars
To share our concerns, to close the divide.
Before more deaths occur.
After all these men and women
Used to be us.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
When we stood there and said
“Until death do we part
to love and cherish”
Did we really comprehend
what that might mean?
We said “I do!” So full of certainty, but
did we really?
At that time, neither of us had a clue
So filled with expectations of love.
Really, not a clue about babies
All nighters with a sick child
Teen age daughter out late, We pacing while
Anxiously awaiting her return.
Moves, Job changes, in-laws
Some dying, others somehow living on
To Be care for, while We too age
Menopause, backaches, the slow settling
Into the inevitable silence of quiet companionship
No need to talk
Now, just sitting, watching
flames
In the fireplace
cup of tea
in hand
a
book
and
My
Love.
I
Do
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
To Whom do you listen?
My mind often wanders off
With thoughts of mischief
Fantasizes of getting up to things
I shouldn’t
But then I don’t,
Not because I hadn’t wanted to
But because I find myself encumbered by
Sequences of events that prevent its
Execution, denying my opportunity
Which had so recently appeared
so inviting.
“Give us this day our daily bread
and deliver us from evil
“and lead me not into temptation”.
That’s how it seems to work
My mantra repeated nightly
Since childhood
With practiced rhythm
as sleep descends
Keeps me safe from my own devils.
“Our Father who art in Heaven”, and
Presumably mine is, my
Minister father now dead
These 76 years, perhaps guiding my path.
He most likely smiles at my frustration.
Amen.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:52 AM UTC
Gaps
Does truth lie in the empty spaces
Between things, casting
Light to objects,
giving them form?
Or is it gaps, wrapped in darkness
In which an artist holds the subject
That give it light and energy.
Chiaroscuro
A counter point to light.
Air too roars
Sometimes with a terrifying force
To fill depressions
An urgent energy with which
It fills its gaps
Is it such gaps that drive our lives
The pulling of our emptiness’s
Providing the energy
With which we fill out
Our destinies,
Lest we sit complacent.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
Eden returned
Take a trip with me and I’ll sing you a song
It’s just off the highway
On a hidden path….There just beside.
Perhaps you didn’t notice it,
But now that I’ve pointed out its beginning,
Come and see with me.
Wait, your shoes.
You cannot feel the earth with those on.
There. Now the tie.
You cannot wear a tie, you have no shoes on!
Don’t be afraid, I wont hurt you.
One thing more, turn off that radio;
I hate to sing in competition,
Well now… The trail….
Over here I believe.
You lead the way.
Oh come now… Of course you know it,
You’ve been here before.
Of course it’s a little overgrown now,
But you do know the way.
I’m glad you let me share it with you.
That’s right, you’re doing better now.
That tree has grown a bit, but the apples are still very good.
Honestly, I’ve never understood why you left
But, I suppose you had your reasons.
It’s so lovely here and peaceful.
Let’s sit here a while… You promised me a song,
Or was it I who promised you?
Well, it doesn’t matter.
We both know it…Lets take turns
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
15th of April 2013
26 miles, 10,000 strong,
Ready at last after months of practice,
To test their endurance.
Proud family members, straining to see Johnny or jill run by.
Or to cheer on the wheel chair racers.
The Boston marathon,
Patriots day,
Flags flying
from the many countries represented.
People of every variety, old, young,
Each beautiful in their endeavor.
Most just trying to beat there own time
And be able to say
“ I ran the Boston Marathon”
Well-wishers bound the route,
On both sides of the road.
Hands holding out water bottles for the runners,
Other Hands applauding
Enjoying the day’s excitement.
“It’s another gorgeous day, here in Boston
For the 80th Boston Marathon”
Comment the watching newscasters.
The women start first, then the men
The Africans, tall and thin make the first rank of runners.
At heartbreak hill no one is surprised at the leaders.
Then the leader crosses the finish line.
First second third and so on.
Did you better your time?
Some, as they cross the finish line,
are so exhausted they just stand staring ahead.
Wondering how their bodies could have given so much,
while paramedics gently guide them to the medical tent
The crowd, amassed at the finish line, applauds
As one by one and in clusters of two and three
Runners reach for the finish line.
Suddenly there is a kind of wompf,
It’s an alien sound that doesn’t belong here,
Out of place with the laughter and the joy.
Then screams replace the joy and there’s a second explosion.
People are stunned, this can’t be happening here in Boston.
A cloud of smoke rises from behind the watchers
Flags billow then fall,
A South African flag, a Thai flag, one from Kenya
Why would any one want to hurt these athletes
Their waiting friends and families?
The sickness of this action so unfathomable
In one moment
Changing a day of joy and celebration
To a day of death and mutilation
Did these sick people mean to **** that 8 year old boy
Who’d come just to see his dad run?
Did they mean to carve off the legs of a that woman
Lying in pain on the stretcher,
Did they mean to bring down a 78 year old who had almost
Almost made it to the finish line.
Perhaps for the last time?
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC