Poor in stock but rich in spirit,
  my clock does bow and sway

In rags and tatters all unstitched,
  with joy do I still pray

My flesh is weak, my home now burnt
   just embers to remind

That within this trouble and burning ash,
   on the hour
    —my heart still chimes

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)

Poor in stock yet rich in spirit,
  my clock does bow and sway

In rags and tatters all unstitched,
  with joy do I still pray

My flesh is weak, my home now burnt
   just embers to remind

Within this trouble and burning ash,
   on the hour
     —my heart still chimes

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)
     ‘From The Book Of Prayers’

I dreamed far into the distance
  and found an ocean beyond the sand

With no beach around its borders
  no surge upon the land

Its depths flow on forever
  no beginning and no end

Before its waves my heart to wander
—within its tide my soul to mend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)

The better the words
  formed

The meaner they
  became

       ‘free and alive
       and stirred from the bottom

       'hidden and denied
       in moments of pain’

Taking on new life
  they glare and they scowl

Staring back from the mirror
  —my indulgent refrain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)

What will they say,
  when I’m gone

What will I write,
   as I take
   my last breath

What will they say,
  when I’m gone

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)

Forty years a Poet,
  sixty years a man

Calling to me distant,
  my last Etesian

Time at best deceptive,
  a trinity of masks

Present truth accepted,
  the one not first or last

The drums now beating softly,
  their rhythm stills my heart

My spirit free to chase the wind,
—this world I now depart

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

The Muse on vacation,
  all thoughts have gone slack

The lyrics unwritten,
  the music off track

All time is unsettled,
  the Devil has come

His melody tempting,
  false promises run

Two days still without her,
  the weekend what’s left

The oxygen dwindling,
  I take shorter breaths

My will power fading,
  all consciousness falls

The ending beginning,
  my last beck and call

But as the dark silence,
  takes over my life

A light passes through me,
  the shadows contrite

Its warmth so familiar,
  its rapture my hymn

Salvation back early,
  my Laura—within

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Mentally on the road
  while spiritually at home

My mind got to wander
   as my soul was at peace

Mentally on the road
  while spiritually at home

My thoughts got to ponder
  what only distance could release

Mentally on the road
  while spiritually at home

My roots sinking deeper
  my connection firmed

Mentally on the road
  while spiritually at home

My legacy planted
   —beneath all that I’d learned

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2015)

Not always understanding,
  I write the words

Lost in comprehension,
  until wonder returns

Each line now a vestibule,
  each sentence a chance

Each metaphor a new song,
—my mind now to dance

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)

The places I’ve travelled,
  yet haven’t seen

The roads I’ve ridden,
  while caught in-between

The mileage piled up,
  memory lay stacked

Voices call distant,
  —my mind to go back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

My days and nights
  death in between
  trouble in front—behind

The devil hijacking my
  fondest dream
  trouble in front—behind

She said she loved me
  then said it twice
  trouble in front—behind

The day I got fired
  she turned to ice
  trouble in front—behind

I pass out ******
  and wake up hard
  trouble in front—behind

With time my warden
  and sentence scarred
  trouble in front—behind

My children’s names
  now others call
  trouble in front—behind

The doctor warns…
  “Not one more fall”
  trouble in front—behind

Excuses inked
  across my chest
  trouble in front—behind

The good got better
  but the worst got best
  trouble in front—behind

My eyes stay swollen
  my mojo light
  trouble in front—behind

The river rolling
  the falls in sight
  trouble in front—behind

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2018)

The dim view of confinement
—the weakest look of all

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

When lost inside a world of dreams,
  the Muse becomes my guide

The days and nights stand juxtaposed,
  the sun and moon collide

And though my eyes desert me now,
  the past and future blind

My parting wish is not to wake,
—this sleep forever mine

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

A tamer version of myself,
  I rise from day to day

Fit for consumption publicly,
  in camouflage I play

Memories deep, and memories stored,
  from oh so long ago

Now sleep inside my attic,
  ephemeral they glow

My current frame of reference…
  four always two plus two

The mundane I show deference,
  to do what others do

But late at night I hear those sounds,
  now coming down the hall

Remembrances to fill my dreams,
  my treasure out of pawn

With sleep unchained, the night on fire,
   I return to who I am

And pray that on tomorrow’s eve,
—my past will come again

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2017)

Refusing to be labeled,
  rejecting type and cast

With choices so enabled,
  my freedom first and last

All fantasy as token,
  its myths now cast aside

My path remains unbroken,
—false branding singed with lies

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

I’ve forever written
  as myself

Few influences will
  show

Neither Hemingway nor
  Faulkner

Not Melville or
  Thoreau

But as one who saw through
  all of that

With so much more
  to know

I search the land
   and stars above

For ink
  —my pen to flow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)

In limbo from indecision,
  on loan from futures past

Deceit became my calling card,
  deception first and last

Borrowing from a fantasy,
  while stealing from a lie

The treadmill turned inside itself,
  my spirit churning blind

But within this dark implosion,
  a voice would call my name

And in its words I heard “escape,”
  an exit from the shame

In hopes of a new becoming,
  old guilt I cast remiss

As inside out, and outside in
  my present—spins in bliss

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)

I go to the gym most every day,
  my fountain pen in hand

My curls and dips move line to line,
  I press as words expand

My repetition sorely felt,
  more weight I need command

And through these veins my prose will flow,
  —verse flexing on demand

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Remembering my Grandfather
  forgetting my Dad

Wanting to be near him
  paternal influence bad

He loved without question,
  his smile blocked the sun

And without his embracing
  —my life on the run

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

The house is quiet,
  the children have gone

My beard unruffled,
  memories grow long

The toys still scattered,
  where last they played

Their love now buried,
  inside the maze

The house is quiet,
  but deep within

Their laughter hides,
—my search begins

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

The house is now quiet,
  the children have gone

My beard they’ve left ruffled,
  as memories grow long

With trains and dolls scattered
  where last they played

Their love remains buried
  inside of the maze

The cupola harkens
  a last candle there burns

As the attic sits waiting
  for the toys to return

The old house is silent
  but deep from within

Their laughter still hides
  —and my searching begins

(Thanksgiving: November, 2016)

Living in a rented room
  my thoughts became my own

Living in a rented room
  my borrowed soul was owned

Living in a rented room
  the fog began to lift

Living in a rented room
  my spirit set adrift

Living in a rented room
  the moment now the thing

Living in a rented room
  —to me, myself I bring

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2014)

Writing in a vacuum,
  the magic seals tight

Writing in a vacuum,
  no maybe’s or might

Writing in a vacuum,
  words floating pristine

Writing in a vacuum,
  nothing fettered between

Writing in a vacuum,
  no beginning—no end

Writing in a vacuum,
  no enemies—no friends

Writing in a vacuum,
  all time is concealed

Writing in a vacuum,
  myself is revealed

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

I stare in the mirror,
And the devil stares back
Laughing and sneering,
His taunting attack

“I bought you, I own you,
Now run, try to hide
Your soul has been mortgaged,
Your spirit denied”

I run through the barn,
And come back with a brick
At the silvery glass,
I throw and then kick

The pieces all scatter,
And smash on the floor
As a roar can be heard,
From the rafters and more

A fire has started,
The hay loft ablaze
With bats in the air,
The demon has raised

I reach in my shirt,
For the cross round my neck
For my Grandmother’s promise,
To preserve and protect…

And the heat that it carries,
Burns bright in my hand
As I point it aloft,
At the horns that now fan

“A Rosary upon you,
Return to your cave
My faith is restored,
—my sins he forgave”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)

Each Poem wrought,
  another day of
  freedom bought

Each verse proclaimed,
  one more glorious
  night renamed

Each line unleashed,
  new light is shown
  old shadows hide

Each truth I speak,
  my soul electric,
  —words alive

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)

In the middle of the stream
  there rests an island

Where hopes and wishes dock
  just out of reach

At the end of every dream
  my souls asylum

Each memory harbored safe
  —along its beach

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2018)

My DNA lettered
My bloodstream in verse
My feelings in couplets
My last goes to first

My thinking in prose
My expression in rhyme
My horizons unwritten
My soul there to shine

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2015)

My DNA lettered
My bloodstream in verse
My feelings in couplets
My last goes to first

My breathing in prose
My expression in rhyme
My horizons unwritten
My soul there to shine

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2015)

Fusing thought with emotion,
  words come to life

Images eternal,
  feelings ignite

Lines play in concert,
  all stanzas to meet

My psyche impassioned
  —my spirit complete

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Combining thought with emotion,
  the words came to life

The images eternal,
  as feelings ignite

The lines now in concert
  all stanzas to meet

My psyche impassioned,
  —my spirit complete

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Surrendering very little back to life,
  the time became solely my own

Which I spent on myself and the ones I loved,
  protecting what inside was my home

The years raced along with my memory endowed,
  regrets being seldom and few

Each choice that I made—every promise I kept,
   my spirit enthroned sovereign and new

(Villanova Pennsylvania: January, 2019)

Poetry allows me to combine what I think with what I feel.  It lets me drive toward a point while being pointless at the same time.  The beauty of the metaphor masking the philosophical content, pulling the reader in without questioning why.  Both sides of my brain becoming fully engaged—my spirit set free.

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2016)

Death once so foreign,
  calls like a friend

Voice ever gentle,
  heard at the end

Death once a nightmare,
  dreams to impound

Now comes to free
—my spirit unbound

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2017)

Am I the Poet that I used to be,
  or the Poet of tomorrow

Am I the Poet of this present moment,
  to own or then to borrow

Am I the Poet that I used to be,
  or the one I will become

Are my words fresh made or from seasons past,
—my spirit zero-sum

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Devoted to my writing,
  a prayer with every word

Faithful to each line I write,
  my verse—my spoken Lord

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)