There's a face staring back.
It's not yours its not hers.
Its not familiar but
Its always been there.

That normal face you make.
Its not yours without it.
That thing you do.
That made you unique.
That face thought of it long ago.

Those skills you have.
That seem to come from no where.
Did you think that was you?
I've practiced all my life.

Those genes that you wear.
The ones that no one can share.

What bits do I now own?
Do I need answers?
From this face that has shown.

A face approaching faster
Perhaps one day soon.
I'll meet my father.

When troubles build up mountain-size
Clouds and fog obscure the peak,
You cannot see the pathway up,
The future’s looking bleak,
When there aren’t enough hours in each day
Or enough days in each week,
You’re in a boat without a paddle
In a swiftly moving creek,
Your friends have faded into black,
Your whole life has sprung a leak,
Fate just punched you in the face
So you turned the other cheek.
When others have inherited
What was promised to the meek;
Faith alone can give you strength
And the solace that you seek.

When the morning sun defeats the fog
And brings the light to day
Illuminates the pathway up
And the clouds are pushed away
When the hourglass is full of sand
Each grain longer than a day
Your friends are in the audience for
The commencement of your play
The curtain rises, they applaud
The black has turned to gray,
You fight toward your own ending
Despite what critics say
If virtue is its own reward
Then all will be okay
For the faithful have their just reward
When comes the Judgement Day.
pwl 5/8/15

What then happens to our Father?
For he suffers more than us.
He lost his lifelong partner,
In whom he dared to trust
That she would always be there
Devoted by his side
To share memories of their journey
A long well traveled ride.

Now she is gone before him
Not by her desire or choice.
In the jet trails and the flowers
Listen closely, hear her voice,
“Take care of your Father,
It’s not easy.  I should know.
But he loved me and he loves you too.
We were proud to watch you grow.”

“And now his family is all he has.
Along with memories fading fast.
He has but one more journey;
Joining me will be his last.
Love him with patience  humor grace
Look through my eyes and try to see
He always tried to do his best -
Love him as you love me.”
pwl 12/14

What’s wrong, you look like thunder.

It’s those two birds I’m going out with, Tuesday and Thursday.

What’s the problem, get the days mixed up.

No, I call them Tuesday and Thursday, I take them out Friday and Saturday.

You do lead a strange life, so what’s the problem.

The problem is Tuesday, she wants to go out on Saturday.

Well, why don’t you take Tuesday out on Saturday afternoon, leaving you free to take
Thursday out on Saturday night.

My god, that’s genius, that’s what I’ll do.

# Monday morning

So how did your weekend go.

Aw man, what a disaster, took Tuesday to the bowling in the afternoon, totally forgot Friday worked there.

Wow there, who the hell is Friday.

She was casual.

So what happened.

She phoned Thursday that’s what happened.

Oh, sounds painful.

No, the painful part was when the wife turned up.

Oops, bet you were wondering what day it was, can I see the film.

Get you a copy later, now I’m forced to stay with Monday for awhile.

What did the wife say?

She wasn't my wife but Wednesday's
Wednesday is married to a woman?

Yeah she's a little freaky. So there I was with Tuesday, Wednesday's wife, Thursday on the way and Friday in my face about Thursday.

                                                      
                                                Paul Gaffney & Lily Nurmi.

Kissing you was like swallowing
the salty, salty sea:

I have corals for ribs,
and seaweed limbs;
my bones are ship-wreck saves
and wishful pennies.

My heart is a sea-shell:
if you put your ear to it,
you’ll hear me screaming, shouting,
pining
for you.

Find coastlines along the edges of your body,
mark your territory
and invite gallant young men to try their hand
at crossing a huge wall made of crystal glass
and steel verses.

Let them be afraid of the tombstones gathered
at the gates; tremble at their own risk
because your heart can't handle an unsteady hand:
it's filled to the brim.
And as the tourney dies down,
as the men scratch the surface
and leave with pieces of your arms,
your eyelashes, your cheeks,
there will be one
who is there when the dust settles.

Allow him to love you,
in a most consuming way; let him
take your body a shrine and let him
call it his only home.

Finally,
break his heart,
and watch as the poetry
spills out of you like
an angry river, from a spear
he wishes he'd hit into your chest
not cupid's arrow instead.

As the winds break into small feathered kisses
and idly burden the heart this May day
I lament for all the long withered wishes
once whose petals bloomed on my way.

A begone time love feeling unfailingly true
a touch that left a long hovering trail
on the probing soul fertile they grew
before cruel days wore them frail.

Aspirations soared on sun blazed wings
they had to be have on awakened nights
the innocent's hunts for the most precious things
haloed in passions of untamable sights.

On feathered winds were they drifted and gone
notions of love and visions to build high
but by their fire made me a man
leaving imprints as the years went by.