Each night I perform the same ritual
     when through the window moonlight streams:
I dim the lights, then close my eyes,
     and await the man of my dreams

From the dark void he slowly emerges
     as unfulfilled yearnings take shape;
Whispers suggest, warm hands extend,
     and I'm drawn into Love's dreamscape

I pity the hearts in torment tonight,
     imploring sleep to ease their pain;
A silent prayer . . . . . then eyelids close,
     but their efforts will be in vain

And yet, because of some strange quirk of Fate
   I shed no tears, nor do I dread
The bell that chimes the midnight hour
     as I lie alone in my bed

I dare not ask how this dream can repeat --
     I'll not question such mysteries;
Nor can I foolishly ignore
     Love's rare display of strategies

But dawn brings a bitter awakening --
     the sun rises without a sound,
Night reclaims the man of my dreams . . . . .
     and Love is nowhere to be found

Life causes so many problems
That ruin and upset my day,
So I try  to escape through poetry --
Just hit the road and get away!
But it seems every street I travel
Only leads to 502 BAD GATEWAY

I've grown so tired and weary
Of the same old message each day,
I can't reach my friends, the road is cut off
By barricades blocking the way;
Other streets bring me back where I started . . . .
That **** 502 BAD GATEWAY

So please HP, fix this problem,
Don't let my poetry go astray;
Without my dear friends what would I do?
Please reunite us without delay . . . . .
And permanently close that wretched street
Named 502 BAD GATEWAY

He never heard me crying
To the empty and uncaring skies;
I cried about the cold formality
In his touch, and his hollow eyes

He never heard me praying
As the setting sun inflamed the West;
I prayed I might rekindle the embers
Of  love that once burned in his breast

He never heard me calling
To the immured realm of his mind,
Hoping the echoes would shatter the walls
And free the love he kept confined

He never heard me saying
"I love you" -- his passion unstirred;
How silent the cries of the heart can be . . . .
. . . . . . . . . .   he never heard!

I used to find pleasure in simple things --
The first buds of May, Saturn's glorious rings;
And I found Life to be carefree and grand,
But those were the days when Love held my hand;
Then Love said farewell -- O, how my world changed!
Now I stumble through Life like one deranged

How I loathe these dark clouds of solitude
That were not summoned, yet dared to intrude;
And on nights when loneliness claws at the door
I must leave this realm where Love lives no more;
And so I set sail for some distant isles
Where contentment reigns and the face of Love smiles

Upon my return, anguish fills my surround,
And nowhere can sanctuary be found;
A wretchedness once again overtakes    
My very soul. And within me there quakes
A heart that's confused and weary with pain,
And it knows not why it must beat in vain

But the heart must obey the dictums of Fate,
No matter the venue -- Hell's or Heaven's Gate;
Yet, when old memories are gently stirred
Soft murmurs of undying love can be heard;
And in such moments I feel gratitude
For this brief reprieve from my solitude

What is my purpose for being
In a world that I find quite insane?
If given but a glimpse of Fate's scroll
I might know if my birth was in vain

Baffling questions rob me of peace . . .
Why am I here, and why at this hour?
To kindle Love's torch for the lonely ?
To give strength to weak men who cower?

Am I here to sharpen the sword
When the battle's about to be lost?
Might I calm and appease the tempest
As the frigate's being helplessly tossed?

Am I destined to be the beacon
For a traveler who has lost his way
When Life drops its mantle of darkness,
And neither sun nor moon lends its ray?

Perhaps I'm to be the salvation
Of some fool hurrying toward Hell's gate;
But each day seems so ordinary ---
I've no glorious feats  to relate

Will the answer be found in my poems?
When into my soul I dip my pen,
Might I alter the course of the world
Causing Heaven to shout out Amen?!

O please, pardon this bit of folly ---
Now and then I must create reprieves
From Life's ridiculous mandates
To escape the tangled web it weaves

And so I still find myself pondering
What Life has kept so well concealed:
Its mysteries, conundrums and puzzles,
And my purpose . . . yet to be revealed!

White, black, green, and red,
Waving a flag.
Let the world know
There is a right to be alive—
The people of Palestine have,
In their own olive land.

As night spreads its ribbons of darkness
Loneliness taps at my window pane,
But too lost in reverie am I
To pay heed to its doleful refrain

Wishful thinking helps me to escape
From the madness of Life's fickle ways;
Though make-believe is a tangled web,
I thrive in its ethereal haze

How sweet the proverbial nectar
That flows from his lips onto mine;
What bliss I derive from a romance
Only my wild impulse could design

I swoon at his expressions of love
Sung and spoken in poetic verse;
(Though at times my heart scoffs at pretense,
Seeing not a  blessing, but a curse)

Yet, when I gaze deep into his eyes
I thrill to see love's reflection there;
He need only take hold of my hand
And together we climb Heaven's stair

O, how painful  are the loveless hours
Of reality I must endure;
In my dreary solitude I find
Wishful thinking holds a strange allure

Ah! but then reality holds sway ---
Once again the snake devours the dove;
But wishful thinking soon restores my peace
With its exquisite mimicry of love!

Are you still recalling that dispute
You had days ago with a loved one?
It's time unkind words were rendered mute,
Lay them in their grave -- what's done is done

What anguish a quarrel can dispense!
A snide remark, then a **** reply;
Do those hurtful words still cause offense?
Bind them to swift wings and let them fly

Time alone cannot heal broken hearts
Or bring comfort to a shattered soul;
Gently gather all the broken parts,
Mend them with Love's threads to make them whole

Focus on the things that make you smile ---
Words and deeds that make happiness flow.
When bitter thoughts taunt you with their guile
Toss them to the wind and let them go!

I often wonder, when Death seals my eyes,
Who will read my poems, who will analyze
Every word and thought that dripped from my pen
As angels wept and softly sighed Amen

Many eyes will see just meaningless words
That flounder in their minds like wounded birds;
But dare I hope for but one astute heart
Able to translate my crude form of art!

While reading my words, he'll breathe a deep sigh,
Sensing each torment as it marches by:
Loneliness, with many a sleepless night,
Tears that clouded the moon's radiant light,
Prayers intended to shake Heaven's rafters
But never yielding "happy ever afters,"
Carefully planned dreams, all destined to fail
Like ill-fated plots in a fairy tale

Will these rhyming words so carefully wrought
Clearly illustrate the love that I  sought?
Then down his sorrowful face tears will flow,
Having realized the depths of my woe

And if his tears were to dampen the soil
Where I lie in rest, set free from life's toil,
Will I know he took pity on my plight,
Thus granting peace in my eternal night?