New Leaves are out and so are the thorns,
they festered all winter, entering spring,
with new resolve and a pain to bring,
right through the side of the shoe worn,

on a foot that is not tender, or sure,
in a foot that has tread more miles,
a shout, a grimace, no more smiles,
Old legs dropped out, falling a blur.

The game of thorns, a new season.
Stay tuned, for there are more, thorns.

words pouring out like water,
do they taste like they sound, pure and clean,
                           not from me, and this screen,
         but from all of you who sure write lean poetry.

Classic lines, not just words
                               But curves,
Parted lips, shape sounds of
                        Near perfection,
Vulnerable....

some see her poise,
others respect her voice
few take respite,
In the delight she brings,
when she sings, like me,
she seems so human now
that she is seventy-two Years, (she never hid it, but it took me
Fifty five years to notice...)

Of age
of an age,
that spans... Generations in kind,
in years performing, on stage, and screen,
                                                         ­     oh but don't call her a Queen,
And "don't rain on my parade"
Just let the walls listen
and let the music fill this space,
And be with the furniture....can
you hear what there is to
hear as the notes sung in
Brooklyneese,
fall lightly or move
toes to tap,
fond affection,
for one, whose voice,
and songs bring me to
a Brooklyn, streets that have not
felt the soles of my shoes.
Yet, my soul is stirred to travel....
Thanks to you Barbara
Somewhere
People,
The Way We Were,
No More Tears
(Enough is Enough) as
My Heart Belongs to Me
and I share through poetry!
Happy Days are here....again!

from one hand
throw all the seconds and minutes into the air,
do this at night,
when the stars are out,
when those pieces of time touch the stars,
that dust, that magic star dust, falls to you
                                                  and to the earth
time stands still,
as if your will, can freeze for a moment, too
rearrange the parts of your day,
go on make the bad things go away,
pile all the good, close, right near,
be prepared,
                     too disappear, for when,
you judge good and bad,
you may lose the best you had,
you can cast the worst away,
which may have made you more human,
that tick of the clock, you threw away.

Dog at my feet,
wanting to go out,
to howl at the fool moon
in the sky, while about,
those sorely affected,
act out, their normal lives
and loves go undetected,
my dog doesn't howl so
I will disavow any such action,
both those in the street,
who wander, like the Zombie,
apocalypse, just hit repeat,
over and over again, they rev their
motors, what if they actually
owned a car?  They run screaming
moonlight streaming in and
catches my eye, clench and unclench
my fist, stand to the rail of my
balcony, pounding the drum that
is my my chest and begin to
howl.

Is it I, you hear, then I am quite near...
join in, let us chorus, and win the
moon to our side!

While he slept,
   I wept,
He laid behind an
  electrical box,
above ground encased in
a wooden frame,
he covered his face,
with a hood, in shame?
No, just to keep the bugs away,
he had his hand in the waist band of
his pants,
was he twisted,
no he may haps had a gun or
wanted those who saw, think he had one,
his back pack was up against him,
he looked exhausted from the spectres
that haunted him,
sleeping twenty feet from where cars
and trucks accelerated by,
all oblivious to his unconscious eyes,
should I call 911, would that have ruined
this end to his all-night fun,
was he dead,

or just dead to the world,
what altered state, made him pick this bed,
of dirt and weeds, wait, what sort of life has he led,
thoughts of "that could be me," fill my head,

He slept, and
that is all that mattered.

Sheaves of poetry unread,
more pages untouched,
will they get dusty or rusty,
like forgotten tools in the shed,

the dread,

that having much poetry to read,
to have such a vast need,
and leaving it undone,

incomplete,

many more books beside my bedside,
will to build some shelves and nook
them away so that privately to stay,

alone,

surrounded by the profound thoughts
and words that are not mine, for
then may I learn that the voices,
that speak and applaud inside my
head like thunder and the flashes
of light like cameras at the synapses,
are about learning,

not yearning,

to own what is not used,
to store what can be bought,
to use what is useful,
                                  may it be
                                   for the purpose
                                      it was intended.

Not just fresh paper knives
that cut that fine line in your skin
to let you know and remind you
it is what where you were marked,
                                                    did it foster change?

Literature and prose,
biographies, books of science,
even one checked out from the public library,
mad you say, come and stay,
for a day, in my library...then we'll see who is mad.

Bring with you the want to go, or else your will you won't know.

sky covered body,
grass stained back
broken lawn,
dampness hung
in the air,                                     "please get it over"
               clung to the copse of bare
               tree branches, their knuckles  
               held a veil of tears, streamed
               one to another as each one was
               shed, became a curtain
               but not a sound,                        "please get it over"
                                             distant mountains,
                                              like gods, towered,
                                              watching the spectacle
                                              while knowing they
                                              were spectacular,
                                              there was no equal,
               the black shape, moved
               on the asphalt, where only
               desperate green hints, grew
               hardy, alive, hardly anything
               moved until the dark shape
               stood still, unsure, idle.

the hands removed
the white stain from the
grass and placed it on a
bed of noisy wheels,
that was swallowed whole.                  "please get it over, I can't see"
by the idle blackness.

All moved slow,
there was no hurry,
no worry, unseeing eyes
stared at the blue sky seeking
God and that mercy had
come and gone, there was no warmth
the cold left, circumspect, all else,      
was corpse that was not soul.                      "get it over, please"

Lifeless left, the car moved on,
the mountains shook their trees,
and the branches near stopped ,
shedding tear shaped water drops,
the grass began to lift slowly as
soon as the weight was lifted,
                                                   some life returned to normal.

You were golden and beyond riches,
you brought us peace, finally
you made your peace, sadly
then you were gone.

You were a pain, that was plain
you cost much and, it was a strain,
brought frowns and smiles,
you could run for miles and miles.

You were so timid but kind,
you were there to remind us,
that you needed no fuss, no muss,
just one(1) to care for, to unwind.

You were the patient one,
kids loved you and you were fun,
to dive bomb in your sleep,
wake up with a start and a leap.

You were gentle from the start,
you easily melted our hearts,
You were never lonely but in the end
we had to leave you when we went.

You, the black dog with an engine much
larger than yourself and a nose as such
would always find home, you  found the perfect
home away from home and brought joy there, I expect.

You were a rescue of a sort,  home was not, the spot
where you stayed anymore as she was gone and he
was on his own, you needed a family, a gift freely
given, we were richly blessed to accept you in our pack.

Day discovers night,
takes flight, blackness slowly crawls,
spotted by starlight


©DWE072013

If I may, if I might, be near you,
                this night and stand guard,
just let me hold your hand,
just let me hold you close,
and
if
not
just let me hold your stars.


©DWE092013

Spring's gleam, sunlight
Streaming
  Low horizon arc light,
   Sparkling
    Heart beating, chasing rest
      Dreaming
        Valentine is a day, but
                   my love
                        is all the way
                               Each day
                                 Throughout every year
                                    From the opening of eyes,
                                      To
                                          The closing of eyes,
                                              The same... as,
                                                 Night follows
                                                    You to the slipstream,
                                                        Of Bubbles, Feathery Pillows, and
                                                              Petals
                                                                  Land  Softly  Now,
                                                                                                  Love.

the out stretched
paw
is not a demand,
oh but it can,
not this night,
she wants the cold
she feels to flee,
she wants to be
in between,
and know where she
longs to belong,
and to be
part of the pack.



©DWE022014

Sounds,
can you hear them, or
   do you feel them,
are they waves that wash or
are they electrical impulses,
do they change the air pressure, or
             change the way you act,
what if the next sound you heard
was the first time, ever you heard that
sound,
that of a breaking heart.

Tonight the stars seem
brighter some how,
maybe the clouds, as they lifted
dusted them
with silver from those linings
we have all heard about,
we all believe and no doubt,
that it must be true, do you
find that staring at them is right
or maybe it is because tonight
is the first time we met.

follow you, follow me
follow you, if you follow me
where are the days of Genesis,
days and nights
created,
for the sounds, of your tears falling like raindrops
when is this,
going to resonate,
going to penetrate,
the dense forest of vessels around my heart,
choking out the Good, It Is
Creator
created everything,
created me apart of the very thing,
you right here,
He called Good,
Oh Lord
the echo of that one day and night and day and night
                                day and night and day and night
                                day and night and day and night,
stills rolls through space, in the dark
and it skips a beat every day of rest, the seventh, not the first
and it skips a beat it is not a test,
and it skips a beat so you can give your best,
on the first day for the rest of the days until the day of rest,
old faces singing young songs,
and even if you may not sing
and even if you may not play
                                               you are an instrument, if ever I needed
and even if you may not rhyme,
and even if you hate the sound of prose,
                                                 your life is a sonnet, font in BOLD, please, stay with me,
                                                   even when you rest in peace,
so we will laugh until we cry, knowing
because once you experience Love,
                                                     you     have seen the face of God.



©DWE022014

The day was good,
so,
night must follow,
                    slowly,
right?

Mind and body in one place,
dream of floating high in space,
                                                    lookin­g beyond the horizons,
golden ball, is so unique,
no duality, yet
only you can fill my deepest longing,
even from over there,
distinct warmth,

for these frozen nerves,
numb,
dumb,
to all that is within reach,

it is your individuality,
that draws significance,
because at that first glance,
know my thoughts never had a chance,
but to think on you,
so different
originality, not banality,
for your self,
there is no
one like you.

Yet the miles between all look the same.

No one leaves, by choice, without heart,
It is difficult, so, it is easier if you don't start,

Trial by fire is better than trial and error,
Prepare your spine for another day of terror,

Life is religiously, each day, taken like a pill,
Swallow with water or you might get ill,

This not about me but about you, I lie,
For with out you in my life, I might die.

Leaving no one.

The weight in my chest,
                                           beats,
              Does Fate make a test,
                                                      then cheats?
                                Does Karma ever rest,
                                                                      or sleep?,

or
do you know
how to show
one, you love yourself,
                                    to then love another,
                                   or even all the others?
           Not just jaded Sisters and Brothers,
do you know
the lover of your soul,
by example paid the toll,
                                            for eternity,
                                            stark humility,
do you know
the humanity,
measured by Stars,
                                  across every night sky,
                                  since the Word of God,
spoke,
            do you know I have always wanted
             to hear those first words, echoed
             I am sure, that stirred creation,

do you know
that every living thing,
is beautiful and can bring,

me to tears.
Of Wonder.
Of Awe.