The moon has become a dancer
at this festival of love.
This dance of light,

This sacred blessing,
This divine love,
beckons us
to a world beyond
only lovers can see
with their eyes of fiery passion.

They are the chosen ones
who have surrendered.
Once they were particles of light
now they are the radiant sun.

They have left behind
the world of deceitful games.
They are the privileged lovers
who create a new world
with their eyes of fiery passion.

Truly gifted poets
Straddle their crafts early on
Some even in adolescence
They have been cursed or blessed
To be kings and queens of utterance.
I never dreamed of becoming a poet
It was furthest from my mind
Then in a sudden twist of eardrum
It happened in my Mid-thirties.

Out of the recesses of Time
Came the lure and a hook
Shining in enchanted brook
And before i knew it
My heart was snatched
And my movements flustered
When i bit on ambrosiac bait
Drenched in Muse's wine
Drugged and drunk
On sounds and images
I struggled in a pool of words
To assemble what held me infused
To make sense of orphaned views
Swaying between shade and light
Like dancers deprived of audience.

My poetic rapture began
In frenetic rain of ink
preposterous in direction
A poetaster rapt on vapid rhymes
With sounds of poetic crimes
But my craft developed
In piecemeal fashion
And rendered my pen composed.

A minnow of long ago
Has grown into a mackerel
And longs to become a whale
In the ocean Ars Poetica
Though it seems a pipe dream.

Night sits on my chest
Squeezes poems out of me
And grinds my poor soul

a few thousand migrants
from run-down middle American nations
join together for a march
to reach the US border
and apply for immigrant visas

the tiny president
of the great United States
sends out the army to protect
the nation of 350 million
from this terrible threat

the master of fake
playing his power games
on the back of the most needy

sometimes I wonder if the time we use
trying to understand the world
by listening to all the media
might not be better spent
with talking to our neighbors
in the pub next door
over some hearty food
     a pint of beer
just let the permahype of news
dissolve with a good joke
and a nice glass of wine
that makes the friendly spirits shine

I contain her thoughts
Her secrets
Her sorrow
I harbor her sadness
Her loneliness
Her quarrels
I’m not just a poem
I am her refuge ... I am her hope ...