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Dear New Poet:

Then I'm your man,
your very own
Northern star,
one leg up of a
3 legged stool,
upon which all,
we, enthroned poets,
the world-over,
do rule

the honor you
bequeath me  
to be,
a first follower,
your very own
first responder,

it, cannot be
disdained
nor
diminished
this instance,
this birth,
a novice revival,
heart transplant,
makes it
the sweetest blessing
to be the first—

let us be
the quencher
of a desert thirst so long
in the parching,
the throat burning,
by a desert sojourning,
of a now ending
forty times
four hundred years

so come to me!
message me a message,
find me a find,
your poem fine,
so now we vow,
our embrace will
ne’er be broken

give me this
honorific!
let us together
be terrific,
raise our glasses,
with arms entwined
toasting you and
all that mind and 
breasted chest of yours,
full bursting from
its future~contains,
of which,
its full release,
brings a fuller life
for us both

I am a father.
I am a grandfather.
I am a First Follower.
and a First Responder,
for all who need a leg up,
so step upon my heart,
it be but a first step upon a
ladder with no top, no end ensighted

my legs are as old as time, but,
measure me not by the rings and 
the metered scales of gray hair aging,
shock of white, a cain mark, wizard-wizened
but
by the muscles
of my deep affection,
the solemnity of this,
my irrevocable promise
this,
the blessing
we both make and earn, 
when you write,
and while we wait,
in quiet attendance -
for all of your good works,
your kept promises

Blessed
are You Lord our God, 
Ruler of the Universe
who has given us life, 
sustained us until now,
allowing anf alloying
treader and the writer, 
to reach,  meet, embrace
and greet this day,
this new born poem,
with hallelujahs
whispering and shoutings
together, one

you find it…
by for and a gift to all of us…
<>>
patty m wrote:

“a sadness evoked,
a yoke around the neck,
the love peck on the cheek,
the cry, and alibi,
the coming together
of word and emotions spilling dreams,
how magical you stream
words into waves
that spill into rivers.
the magic of moonlight
strewn from pen to heart.
The love this poet imparts”

“We could never see tomorrow
No one said a word about the sorrow”
The Bee Gees

a simple rhyme, a plaint familiar,
for those who have never stared
down train tracks, which is a lesson
in recognizing
the uncertainties of
living,
even if linearly visualized,
t h e o r e t i c a l l y

can veer to destinations unknown,
worthy of being dreaded, thinking
what are the odds today is the last,
and maybe now and then, not just
dismissing,them so easily

but it always brings on pain old
and familiar, recollecting of the
way life never asks you first, the

swiftness of two life lines colliding
with the
s u d d e n e s s
unfathomable
of 2 locomotives crashing,
head on
and leaving behind
a desolation breathtaking

it is a well lit winter morning,
cold light, but the direct sun
leaves a general okayness,
and you trudge along,
head bent, respecting the chilling,
calculating the distance to
the warmth of a planned
destination,
but here I remind
all of us:

”No one said a word
about the sorrow”

~a companion poem to
Marry Me! -(I am-in-love-with-you) (1)~
wherein was writ:

“here I stop
lest I die of  bursting, and yet I weep
for us, for you,
no longer
read my poetry”
<>

another winter’s day cruelty,
for this wretched refuse of a
former man
who
once could,
who even deemed
owner of a loving teeming,
who adored kneeling,
before love’s altar,
sacrificially, heroically

once in possession of
amazing grace, (2)
but now no longer such
in his scriptures
deeded,

for our save-by-day ,
appears, before my eyes,
so informing my love permit
has now time~expired

I once was found,
but not
once more,
but
once again,
refamiliarized with
loss
wretched and wrenched,
so I punch up at the sky,
and the sky,
like you, my love,
doesn’t punch back,
and now we are in
aggrieved agree:

there is no returning
to where
we graced each other,
so one more poem I’ll
prepare
so let it be,
the “we”
will be momentarily -
but not ! ever lastingly

but for a well~timed
very finite infinity
be returned
to coexist
and let
grace be extended
even surreptitiously

for we
to separate,
sub divide our souls,
in a graceful manner:

why this last act,
a hallmark of
what once
stood for
us,
was,
and perhaps then,
you will read:

my only love poetry
once moreover,
with com-passion
and even tiny teeny seconds
of memorized affection,
and that would be an
amazing grace