26 December 2011

Cover me with darkness,
Hold me on the edge,
Let me drift where
I must be,
'Til I can land,
Where e'er I need,
My heart is fully
Broken,
My body aches
From
Stem to stern,
My soul cries out
To let it be,
And bears what sadness
There might be,
Alone,
Within its core.

Some silent
Force,
Must come to me,
To heal me
From within;
I've lost my faith,
In all there is,
Even in
What I can see.
So let me go,
And let me be,
To live life out
In peace,
While free
To breathe
Upon despair,
Until the end
Is clearly seen.

2 January 2012

I cannot find
The end.
Is it somewhere here
On earth?
Could it be a refuge
In this life?
A place of calm
And hope?
A place where love
Might safe exist,
Where hope might shelter
From despair,
How would I know
When I am there,
Could I arrive
While unaware,
And yet enjoy
Its fruits?
We'll see.
Might not hope
Exist alone,
Within there,
Without form,
Intangible,
Upon its own accord?
But holden to
Us all?

To be continued;

I never saw Teddy,
Rudy York was just a coach,
But Fenway was my Mecca
Back when Boston was a
Sad sack team.
I have to laugh,
I traded Yogi,
Traded him,
And Roger Maris
Too,
Traded them for
Tracy Stallard!
What New Englander
Would want a Yank?
Yes Fenway folks
Were not the brightest,
Back before the Sox
Were good.
Now Red Sox nation's
Nation wide,
The Sox are always
In the mix,
After all,
To love a winner,
Isn't strenuous,
I guess.

But,
There was a time,
A half century,
Or so,
Ago,
When,
That legendary jewel,
It didn't seem so small,
At all,
To me,
A kid,
Of only ten.
She was a great,
And green colossus,
Astride Van Ness,
And Brookline Ave.
To get inside,
You'd need your Dad,
And once inside,
She was a mighty
Castle of concrete
And steel,
With boxes for the
Jimmy fund,
Everywhere the eye
Could see,
She was a dark
And dingy cavern,
***** too,
Not much to see,
But when you  walked
Into the sunshine,
There was magic
Everywhere.
The famous sign
In center field,
"Hey Bosox, sock one here,"
And just the color of the grass,
That field was perfect,
Everywhere.
Back then
You could get a ticket,
Any time you wanted,
Just drive right up,
What section,
Please?
But now,
She's a celebrity,
She's all sold out,
The whole year through,
But those of us,
With memories,
Don't need a
Reservation,
For we all recall
The ghosts of Fenway Park.

April is their month.
They've sat,
Patient,
Throughout the winter,
Those sturdy oval buds,
Sometimes cased in ice,
They don't seem
To mind.
Are they awaiting,
Tax time?
These jewels
Keep company with
Their pretty pink
Cousins,
The Redbud.
Why does the dogwood
Ask
For our attention
So?
Perhaps because it
Blooms so early,
When
There is so little else
To see.
Perhaps it is the legend that,
From the poor dogwood,
Came the wood,
From which was fashioned,
The true cross.
More likely it's just,
The timeless beauty,
Born-in beauty,
From long ago,
Needing no
Adornment,
And not a bit
Of pruning.
Touch it with a knife,
You'll invite disease.
Let it grow ***** nilly,
It will give you,
Perfect beauty,
On its own.

Wild,
It sits beneath
The forest cover,
Like a craggy,
Wasted twig,
Dwarfed,
By its bigger cousins.
And then,
Before any others,
That slim and subtle
Beauty
First appears,
As an
Exquisite miniature,
Creamy yellow flowers,
That open,
To bleach themselves white,
And show the
Blood red crosses
At their center.

They are
Gems,
That change,
Day by day,
So leave your camera
Home.
You cannot catch
Their beauty.
Instead,
Imprint the view
Upon your mind.
They'll be back
Next year,
More beautiful
Than ever.

Where do old couches go?
And old TVs?
The ones that weren’t born as HD,
They go into our nearby river,
Sadly,
Along with fish,
But fish in fact are s’posed to be there,
And maybe
Jimmy Hoffa too,
Who ain’t,
To speculate would be unfair,
The river doesn’t say.

I lost my love for thirty years,
But held her close
Within my heart,
And now,
United,
We are seldom
Far apart.
When we are,
It's only space
That separates,
Our souls still touch,
Our hearts beat close
As if as one,
And when once more united,
We can't help but hold each other;
The newness may not wear off
For another thirty years.

For Rose
17 Jul 2012

Scribe my name upon your heart,
I'll scribe your name on mine,
Hold me close within your soul,
Let me know we're bound together,
With a love that's new and old.
Let me hold you when I will,
Stay with me forever,
Let's frolic in this world together,
And when it's over,
Meet once more,
And frolic in the world to come.

the sea broad and dark,
spans the breadth of our romance,
the rain sings your name.