I'm sometimes asked with feigned surprise,
"You write poetry?"
"How Divine!
Give us a sample of your
favorite rhyme!"

But I know what they're thinking.
I see it in their eyes,
"What a waste of time."
"What a joke."
"Better hide the silver,
cuz these types are all broke."

Poetry doesn't pay the bills.
That part is so true.
But, don't deride my compulsion,
or my next hundred verses
will be about "you!"


~~~

the ground is rumbling
the crowd is cheering
as the hardworking players
tear up the field

as he swerved around the opponent
every roulette, every fake
every slightest touch
is a sparkle in the night

it's amazing how this simple game
so fun and so enchanting
yet so emotional
has taken over our lives

football isn't just a game
it is a lifestyle

something was missing.
a vacancy of purpose
lay within my soul.
until I caught your glance
and for a brief moment,
I suddenly felt whole.

I didn't believe it, at first.
my jaded mind fought the idea.
but the emptiness began to fill.
this wasn't a lustful impulse
something had begun,
and it was real.

the proof was in
your words,
your smile,
your loving touch.
your humor,
your laugh,
I could not get enough.

our lives began that august night
under a star filled sky and pale moon.
I am a 'man' today made better, forever
and it's all my darling,
my Love,
because of you.

~~~

My poem
inhales
my love
And
exhales
your name