The line of evergreen trees
Paraded in the sunset
Offset by the piercing highway
Following the path to the end

Breaking away from the crowd
They remained in silent understanding
Breathing each other’s essence
In a timeless momentum

Longing for a single pathway
Leading through the forest of emotions
In a garden of gilded fantasies
Thawed by the rays of passion

The final memory of tomorrow
Written on the feather of fate
Held in the palm of forever
Wrapped in a golden band of love

The line of evergreen trees
Paraded in the sunset
Offset by the piercing highway
Following the path to the end

Breaking away from the crowd
They remained in silent understanding
Breathing each other’s essence
In a timeless momentum

Longing for a single pathway
Leading through the forest of emotions
In a garden of gilded fantasies
Thawed by the rays of passion

The final memory of tomorrow
Written on the feather of fate
Held in the palm of forever
Wrapped in a golden band of love

2/16/19
www.brucelevine.com

Here’s to a breakfast appetizer
The start of another day
Waking to the loved one
Brought from miles away

The longing we thought would last forever
Is gone with a single kiss
That brings the joys of a lifetime
Filled with days of bliss

The golden days of every day
The passion we’ll always feel
A love that will last forever
And ever because it’s real

Simple joys like holding hands
Or walking in the snow
Mem’ries in the making
To last as long as we’ll know

Happy times through summer
Winter, spring and fall
Gathering momentum through the years
The greatest love of all

10/7/18

www.brucelevine.com

The Greatest Love Of All

Thursday, February 14, 2019 | Filed under Bruce Levine

Contributor: Bruce Levine

- -
Here’s to a breakfast appetizer
The start of another day
Waking to the loved one
Brought from miles away

The longing we thought would last forever
Is gone with a single kiss
That brings the joys of a lifetime
Filled with days of bliss

The golden days of every day
The passion we’ll always feel
A love that will last forever
And ever because it’s real

Simple joys like holding hands
Or walking in the snow
Mem’ries in the making
To last as long as we’ll know

Happy times through summer
Winter, spring and fall
Gathering momentum through the years
The greatest love of all

http://www.leaves-of-ink.com/2019/02/the-greatest-love-of-all.html

www.brucelevine.com

Here’s to a breakfast appetizer
The start of another day
Waking to the loved one
Brought from miles away

The longing we thought would last forever
Is gone with a single kiss
That brings the joys of a lifetime
Filled with days of bliss

The golden days of every day
The passion we’ll always feel
A love that will last forever
And ever because it’s real

Simple joys like holding hands
Or walking in the snow
Mem’ries in the making
To last as long as we’ll know

Happy times through summer
Winter, spring and fall
Gathering momentum through the years
The greatest love of all

10/7/18

driftwood floats
to a corner
of the lake
hidden from view
in a cove
shrouded by trees

sailboats glide
on a breeze as
mild as september
over water as
smooth as glass
tinted amber

hidden depths with
spring-filled caverns
limitless
against the
ebbing tide

summer haze and
autumn colors
new day’s glory
turns to
evening shade

flying fish and
water urchins
fishing rods
with baited
hooks

swimmers dive
into pale blue
water
crystal clear
with a hint
of green

fishes ride
in the wake
of rowboats
speedy oars
pulled by
teams of men

gentle times
as the lake
remembers
passing times
that remain
the same

The gentle breeze has just a hint of coolness to it,
Barely relieving the humidity even this early in the day.
The fetid air hangs heavy in the trees,
The residue of yesterday’s scorching thermometer.

Is there hope in that gentle breeze?
The first in a season of no seasons.
The land of mold, mildew and bug bites
Reveals itself as a season of perennial hot.

The man sips his coffee and picks up his pencil,
Trying to draw the outline of memories:
Golden days of autumn and snow white cliffs of winter
Where time moves onward in a perpetuum of days.

The man sits stagnant in a world of empty spaces;
A vacuum created like a tunnel through the reality of time.
Nothing ever changes; no one ever reaches for the golden ring of glory
Or the passion of fulfillment in the land of the living dead.

Alone again
Dreams keep
Coming to an end
Unfulfilled promises
Thrown away
With a kiss
Sorrow reignited
Passion extinguished
Forever forgotten
In the blink of an eye
A lifetime of hopes
And dreams
Piled in a funeral pyre
Longing overtaking
A dismembered corpse
As the tangible
Artifacts remain
A constant reminder
Of a second broken heart
Unsung and unheralded
Commitments forsaken
The grand scheme
That appeared perfection
Gone and only the dust
Of another cremation
Of the soul
Remaining forever

1/25/19

Where do you go
At the end of the list
As paperless paper
Remains on the roll

Standing with nothing
However refined
And entry forever
Forever declined

The faraway mountains
The tears never shed
Forgetting tomorrow
No more the bells toll

Not asking or crying
As time marches on
The list one remembers
Forever is gone

3/1/19

www.brucelevine.com

Feel for the lowly yoyo
Bouncing across a tennis court
Propelled by the racket’s action
Pulled back by the yoyo’s string

A word or a phrase would do him
To give him hope or loss
No matter which direction
He hears the racket’s ping

A lowly yoyo has no life
Made of wood and cloth
A string that breaks too easily
If action would only bring

A happy ending to the yoyo
That never asks for more
Then riding on the current
Of love’s golden wing

Take care of the lowly yoyo
Keep him close to your heart
Never forget the lowly yoyo
For true love he will sing

8/22/18

The music of time
Remains frozen
Drifting like snowflakes
Across the Himalayas
Waiting for dancers
To unlock the mystery
A simple Pas de deux
Lyrical and elegant
Filled with the joy
Of lovers
Joined by a thread
Suspended
But never touching
Until the final moment
As the music of time
Transports their reality
Into one

The frozen lake no longer exists
Heat has stolen time
Chemicals in food has changed lives
Women becoming barren
Flight of songbirds
The phases of the moon mutating
As the world becomes further
And further adrift
Lives on hold
Fantasies taking over
As video games become the new reality
Tides rising around the corpse
Of another time
Stigma reinvented
Jobs forsaken in favor of escapism
As adolescence extends into middle age
And maturity evaporates
Half way through the forbidden
Grandmothers laugh
Gold threads extinguished
Without knowing when or why
A torpedo blasts against the rocky coast
Sending shale amongst the cacti of Arizona
And the lake swallows the debris
Lost forever in the next ice age

7/30/19

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

The journey began under a cloudy sky with rain hovering over the horizon. – Going back. – The painter saw the vision. Was it real? Or Was it just the shadow of the storm? The painter saw the canvass. Forms danced before his eyes. Thunder clapped in the distance. The brush moved to the rhythm of the storm that only the painter heard. A lifeline from the clouds like an umbilical cord. – Going back. – The painter focused again. The clouds thickened, blackening against the horizon in anticipation. – Going back. – The painter saw himself. He’d stopped painting. Now going back. – Going back. – The painter wondered. The painter asked himself. The painter took a brush, squeezed paint on the palette; color after color – a new variety. – Going back. – The unknown. A new beginning. – Going back. – The white of the canvass and the blackening sky. The storm. Pure color. Mixing color as the storm moved closer. A clap of thunder. The painter looked at the sky. The painter dabbed the brush onto the palette. Rain began. The brush danced to a rhythm. Thunder claps. Sweeping across the sky; sweeping across the canvass. – Going back. – The painter looked at his painting. The painter looked at the sky. The painter was happy. – Going back.

8/13/19

www.bruclevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

Sometimes I feel like I live
On the precipice of sanity
A sense of urgency
That drives me forward
Tingling within my body
Like an electric current
Watching the clock
Breathlessly pacing
Without moving
Needing to go
Without going anywhere
Like a pressure cooker
About to burst
A volcano
About to erupt
An earthquake
Grating tectonic plates
My body a maelstrom
My blood a whirling vortex
Like a whirlpool of water
At the edge of a waterfall
And yet I go on
Mindful and waiting for the day
I cross the precipice of sanity

He waits
Days go by
Weeks go by
Months go by
Years go by
Promises unresolved
Time passes
No fulfillment
New hopes
New rejections
Once remembered
Once forgotten
Trying again
Putting it out
Painful reminders
Past encounters
Understanding
Confusion
Resolution
Waiting
Goals
Goals­ forsaken
Timeless reminders
Forever hopeful

6/9/19

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

Time stands still
As the process continues
One after another
Proceeding through the alphabet
Opening windows
Sometimes already closed
And yet the process goes on
Forever unfolding
In the hope of reality
Forever seeking
The next enlightenment
A new generation
Longing for expression
As the process continues
And time lingers on

5/21/19

www.brucelevine.com
https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B07485W4Q1

The Quest (complete)

Bruce Levine

And I don’t mean The Impossible Dream, because the only thing impossible is that one can never reach the end and, in one sense, maybe the quest is the end unto itself.

If one can never reach the end of the quest
Is the quest, then, an impossible dream?
Or is the quest the end unto itself?

Or, maybe, the quest is the end unto itself.

There is no such thing as an impossible dream
Because the only thing impossible is that one can never reach the end
And, in one sense, maybe the quest is the end unto itself

And I don’t mean The Impossible Dream, because the only thing impossible is that one can never reach the end and, in one sense, maybe the quest is the end unto itself.

If one can never reach the end of the quest
Is the quest, then, an impossible dream?
Or is the quest the end unto itself?

Or, maybe, the quest is the end unto itself.

There is no such thing as an impossible dream
Because the only thing impossible is that one can never reach the end
And, in one sense, maybe the quest is the end unto itself

The momentum of today
Overcomes the lassitude of yesterday
Bringing forth a new entry
In the rhythm of life
Fixed on the timeless energy
Of tomorrow’s renewal
The glories of future expressions
Sustained by the powers of the mind
Inaugurated by passion
Fulfilled by love

5/4/19

The river of time
Flows through the essence
Of human existence
Forging canyons in the soul

Following a path
Of its own creation
Leaving silt in its wake
Stones along the shore

Rapids interrupt
Its meandering migration
As the current overtakes
Rocks scattered in the bed

Casting spray on daydreams
Leaving empty holes
Where the future
Would have been

The river holds the mem’ries
Of sailors long since gone
Waiting for new entries
Dragged against their will

Shadows from the trees
Quiver in the wind
Darkening the river’s path
Where sunshine should have been

Shallow pools created
As the river branches off
An oasis holding time
That the current ignored

Skipping stones on the surface
Thrown by people on the shore
Setting off vibrations
Concentric circles spreading out

Fastening forever
As the ripples disappear
Time alone remembers
The river that flows along

Leaving empty caverns
Cut in solid stone
That once had happy endings
Before the ebb and flow

The road of love is long
Filled with potholes and bumps
Along the way

For some
Any place they hang their hat is home
For some
It isn’t physical
It’s metaphysical

There’s an essence
Intangible, unimaginable
Indescribable, but real

For every cliché in column A
There’s a single word in column B
Home

Travel and transience
Can never subjugate
The pull
The allure
Of the quintessential

And as the song says
A house is not a home
And the greatest love of all
Will yearn in tandem
For the romance of home

For some
Any place they hang their hat is home
For some
It isn’t physical
It’s metaphysical

There’s an essence
Intangible, unimaginable
Indescribable, but real

For every cliché in column A
There’s a single word in column B
Home

Travel and transience
Can never subjugate
The pull
The allure
Of the quintessential

And as the song says
A house is not a home
And the greatest love of all
Will yearn in tandem
For the romance of home

A seesaw of emotions
Depending on the day
Elevated to Shangri-La
Or thrown into Hades lake

Fascination with the moments
Of a love that seemed to fade
No longer the bright responses
That took my breath away

In unison without breathing
Oxygen depleted by words
And longing for that single thought
That transforms an empty heart

Oh too many tears now
Have brought me to this point
Of total isolation
Waiting for a simple retort

Another day will pass now
And the seesaw shifts in place
Which way it will go tomorrow
Unending torment in its wake

A seesaw of emotions
No longer ringing true
Fearing the future mocking
And fate’s gigantic mistake

8/23/18

Limitless hyperbole
Opens doorways in the mind
That questions intention
By the truly inquisitive

Revolving platitudes
Offer expressions of grandeur
Yet little more than filigree
On Rococo picture frames

The oxymoron of destiny
Falls on empty minds
With passages long forgotten
By the narcissist’s quatrain

5/10/19

The stealthy stalking of bees
Happens each year in the spring
When flowers grow under the trees
And song birds are starting to sing

The pollen that’s turned into honey
Bears fruit for the people we know
But bees think it’s just pretty funny
To put on a song and dance show

When Daisy the dog sees a field
Of flowers that bloom in the spring
She stealthily stalks bees for breakfast
And gobbles them down without a sting

I wonder how Daisy does do it
She swallows them whole one and all
The bees keep working unnoticed
While Daisy devours them all

2/22/19

www.brucelevine.com

There’s a storm coming
Flood warnings already posted
But the sky remains clear blue
And the clouds cotton white
Blowing across the horizon
At an ever increasing pace
And the breeze
Strong enough to bow the trees

But it’s still not threatening
Still cool and refreshing
The storm is still
Far enough away
To assuage anticipation

But it’s coming
You can almost
Smell it in the air
Soon it will be time to
Close all the windows
And wait for it to pass

Nothing more to do
Nothing more to be said
Nothing but to watch and wait
And enjoy the time
Before the storm that’s coming

The sun is just burning off
The morning mist as it
Pierces the leaves of the trees
Casting a wakening glow
On the landscape
Bringing warmth to the day
And to the hearts of lovers
After the cool and restful night

The day has begun
The smells of coffee
And breakfast permeates
The air as life is
Renewed

Joyous surroundings
Fill the souls as the sun
Fills the sky
Lighting the way
To work and to play
And love engulfs
The lovers who
Bask in the glow
Of the sun
And their love

10/9/18

The sun is just burning off
The morning mist as it
Pierces the leaves of the trees
Casting a wakening glow
On the landscape
Bringing warmth to the day
And to the hearts of lovers
After the cool and restful night

The day has begun
The smells of coffee
And breakfast permeates
The air as life is
Renewed

Joyous surroundings
Fill the souls as the sun
Fills the sky
Lighting the way
To work and to play
And love engulfs
The lovers who
Bask in the glow
Of the sun
And their love

http://www.leaves-of-ink.com/2019/03/the-sun.html

www.brucelevine.com

The tapestry of the mind
Filled with golden threads
Like the orbits in the universe

There once was a man
Who thought he’s a comic.
He didn’t need logic
‘Cause still he dreamed on.

He’d open for this one
And open at that.
On sidewalks, in nightclubs
If they’d pass the hat.

He followed his plan
And eventu’lly made it
On cruise ships and Vegas
He moved right along.

Through ups and through downs
And fights with his agents
He fought and he battled
And weathered the storm.

And now he’s retired
From stand-up and show-rooms
And calmly announces
As comics move on.

The tree of life
Takes a circuitous route
Stumbling its way
Toward destiny

Filling the void
Of eternal dissolution
Evading the cavity
Of human dislocation

A parody of civilization
In a hand-held box
Glorifying nothing
The emptiness thereof

A synapse shorted
A circuit-breaker broken
A complex evolution
Darwin rebuffed

The feeling of being empty
A faux examination
Of priorities forsaken
A glass that never fills

A new intoxication
Escape to points unknown
External manifestations
Legacies regressed

Impossible to ponder
The brink of new extinction
The void that’s overtaking
The void that now exists

6/6/19

The world goes forward
For better or worse
Time travels at the speed of light
Toward its own destiny
Artists toil under the canopy
   of forgotten memories
In the age of technology
Does anyone care
We surround ourselves
In a glass bubble
   of our own making
Shielding the sun’s rays
   from reality
While bending them into conformity
The bubble bursts
And time is thrown into the vortex
Screaming for surrender
A temper-tantrum of fate
Grasping at straws
Yet knowing no relief
Forever the moment
Held in a wine glass
   of shimmering incandescence
As the world goes forward
Without relief

3/25/19

www.brucelevine.com

The yellow light of dawn
Burning through the trees
Awakening the day

Proactive
Reactive
Choosing the path to follow

My eye’s on the rainbow
Holding on to dreams
Keeping pace with forever

This is my house
This is where I grew up
This is where I want to live and die

3/28/17

*

My time to shine
Simply Faded
Holding a near empty glass

Her life is about making money
My life is about making art
What is one without the other?

When unto touch
Impenetrable towers
Open your heart before your eyes

3/31/17



hidden dreams of glory
soaring over trees
flocks of birds on an august morn

sweet september
fly-fish casting
swallows nesting and honey bees


early evening sunsets
pink and orange clouds
holding hands with moonlight

8/2/17



enlightened enigma
pervades the temperance of time
holding moments against shadows

8/31/17



The tapestry of the mind
Filled with golden threads
Like the orbits in the universe

9/3/17



The happenstance of fate
Turns reality into daydreams
Or is it the other way around?

9/4/17



Florida
The land of mold, mildew
And bug bits

But memories aren’t enough
and the sadness of the times and places being gone
can never retrieve the times and places.

10/19/17



The pestilence of time
Transcends the boundaries of fate
And takes its own rewards

10/27/17



Plotting the day before me
I look at the empty page
And wonder at the metaphor

In the age of technology
We’ve reached a new low
The age of mediocrity

11/16/17



The Quest

There is no such thing as an impossible dream
Because the only thing impossible is that one can never reach the end
And, in one sense, maybe the quest is the end unto itself

11/21/17




It’s supposed to be fall
But the trees don’t seem to know it
New leaves struggle to fill up empty limbs

As the sun focuses on a single tree
Like a lighting “special” pinpoints an object on stage
Life projects its essence of humanity.

12/1/17





Tranquility Abandoned

The sudden, torrential, downpour sent him running for cover
He grabbed his computer, book and writing kit and ran inside
Tranquility abandoned.

12/9/17


Manhattan Tempo

I pace at a Manhattan tempo
Frantic reality, utter turmoil
Lost in the quicksand of fate

12/11/17


Another week of our lives
Torn away from us
And now another and another…

12/8 & 13/17


Death hangs over me
Like an anvil waiting for the blacksmith’s hammer
Where’s the Christmas miracle?

12/15/17



Hope draws me on
To a journey not yet taken
And a destiny unfulfilled

3/10/18

*

Reliving the days
Of your fading life
The last bowl of broth

4/5/18
Traversing the world alone
It’s the good mem’ries
That hurt the most

6/30/18



The yellow light of dawn
Burning through the trees
Awakening the day

7/26/18



A yellow crescent moon
That overlooks the landscape
And hyphenates the stars

8/15/18



Now that you are mine
Sent from Heaven to be with me
I am yours forever

8/29/18



The temperature dropped
But the warmth of the sun fills the room
Like love fills the heart

10/14/18

*

Meditation in motion
Slow locomotion
The torch of devotion

11/20/18



Re: Social Media

My hatred increases
In geometric progression
To my daily existence

11/29/18

*

The Road of Love

The road of love is long
Filled with potholes and bumps
Along the way

12/6/18

There’s a saying
Time waits for no man
Time can be relative
Or a revelation
Time cannot be extinguished
Or diminished
When waiting
Time feels elongated
Like watching the grass grow
It levitates
Holding itself suspended
In a reality of its own making
Transforming itself as if static
Standing still
Yet time ticks on
Like the striking of Big Ben
And the universe moves
At its predetermined pace
While we poor mortals
Suffer the interminable seconds
Of the atomic clock
That stands still
Only in our consciousness
Waiting like Pandora’s Box
To be opened
And return to its natural pace
Of sixty seconds
Sixty minutes
Hours…days…weeks…years
Waiting for time
Time holding a new reality
Time demonstrating its ability
To transfix
Transfuse
And open new vistas
Only time can reveal

There’s a saying
Time waits for no man
Time can be relative
Or a revelation
Time cannot be extinguished
Or diminished
When waiting
Time feels elongated
Like watching the grass grow
It levitates
Holding itself suspended
In a reality of its own making
Transforming itself as if static
Standing still
Yet time ticks on
Like the striking of Big Ben
And the universe moves
At its predetermined pace
While we poor mortals
Suffer the interminable seconds
Of the atomic clock
That stands still
Only in our consciousness
Waiting like Pandora’s Box
To be opened
And return to its natural pace
Of sixty seconds
Sixty minutes
Hours…days…weeks…years
Waiting for time
Time holding a new reality
Time demonstrating its ability
To transfix
Transfuse
And open new vistas
Only time can reveal

Raisins on the radar
Blips up in the sky
Momentary fragments
Dissecting the nebula
Into quadrants of infinity

Paradoxical parodies
Of timeless interventions
Parading down the highway
Toward the Main Street
Of all life

Opening credenzas
Containing empty virtues
Of Delft and Meissen statues
With layers of brocade adornment
Pretensions held up to the light

Fascinating sorrows
Measuring despair
With candles unextinguished
A world in disrepair

A bastion of hollows
Carved in granite heights
A tempest once devoured
Retains the kernel within
To reignite with a teardrop
A Phoenix full in flight

3/26/19


www.brucelevine.com

Times remembered
Now repeating
Now receding

Vacant mem’ries
Hollow entries
Long abandoned

Empty journeys
Once remembered
Twice forgotten

Open highways
Never travelled
Dreams forsaken

Faded glories
Full of promise
Now depleted

Long lost treasures
Stolen chances
Dissipating

Silent voices
Empty spaces
Past erases

Times remembered
Now repeating
Now receding

Letting go
Yet holding fast
Dreams a reality
Covered with dust
Yesterday’s tomorrows
A golden calf
Longing for diversion
In an empty paragraph

Farther down the road
The hyperbole of fate
Nothing to lose
In the chances we take

Holding on to daydreams
In the nexus of time
Fondling eternity
With an extension wand

Tired of chasing rainbows
Through the looking glass within
A hexagram remembered
A character remembered
With a double chin
All the cards on the table
Arranged in careful rows
Extending and expanding
Like a fine suit of clothes

After all the sorrows
The joy
A new refrain
A single written moment
Unheard
Unlocked
Unheralded
To gather new momentum
In the harbinger of fame

Long live the peaceful moment
Beware they last like dew
Forever ever after
Remains an endless hue
Of colors pink and gray now
A travesty of fate
Impaled on good intentions
That rattle from behind

And longing for hereafter
In a bottle filled with gin
Extolls a simple meaning
Of time held in proximity
To the hologram of light
That refreshes the soul forever
Giving grace to single entries
In the sketch-book of hope

Farwell to empty shadows
As time alone stands still
Farwell to chasing rainbows
The piper pays the bill

Glory and redemption
Appear
Go hand in hand
Time to move on forward
Time to understand

2/14/19

Going backward to go forward
Finding my true identity
The hidden core
That represents my reality
Overgrown with twists and turns
Carrying me in wrong directions
Swimming upstream
Pummeled by the surf
Battered by rapids
Working on goals
That seemed long forgotten
But only frozen by cryogenics
Waiting in the wings
Hoping to be rediscovered
Looking in the mirror
To another dimension
Past the vortex
That remains transitory
Fleeting moments pointing the way
To look backward
And go forward

Going backward to go forward
Finding my true identity
The hidden core
That represents my reality
Overgrown with twists and turns
Carrying me in wrong directions
Swimming upstream
Pummeled by the surf
Battered by rapids
Working on goals
That seemed long forgotten
But only frozen by cryogenics
Waiting in the wings
Hoping to be rediscovered
Looking in the mirror
To another dimension
Past the vortex
That remains transitory
Fleeting moments pointing the way
To look backward
And go forward

Tom Turtle ran a race
He’d never lost before
But in the name of love
Came from above
Joe Rabbit beat his score

Tom was glad
This time not sad
True love had won the day
And though he lost
A race it cost
He gladly had his say

This time Joe
You weren’t a foe
The message is loud and clear
Two lovers brought
From Heaven taught
To hold each other dear

And from that day
They’d laugh and play
A perfect atmosphere
For love to thrive
Each day alive
It wasn’t a show
And on they’d go
Forever aglow
With happiness every day
And joyously they did say

Thanks Tom Turtle
You lost the race
But through your grace
Love can erase
The sadness you must face

Tom Turtle replied
I am alive
I’d happily lose ten more
For love like yours
Means more than scores
So go on your merry way

And live your life
Free from strife
And here’s to you both
I raise a toast
To love and laugh each day

You have each other
I’ll soon recover
You’ve opened the door
There needs no more
You’ll now discover
Destiny brought you ashore
You’re both in love
From Heaven above
For now and forever more

I sit on the porch in the early morning
And watch the world.
I watch the birds and squirrels awaken.
I watch the sun slowly drift
Across the lawn;
Casting a golden light
And drying the dew.
I watch people jogging
And getting ready for work.
I watch a woman as she walks,
Outlining the perimeter of every parking space
And I wonder – why?
I watch as people start their cars,
Pull out and head off.
Where are they going –?
To work?
To play?
To start another day.

I close my eyes against the sun
Then barely open them.
A new view comes before me.
Is it reality?
The trees are bare;
Barren limbs against the sky.
Are they reaching for Heaven?
What are they doing?
What are they telling me?
Is this an epiphany
Or a transitory vision
Of trees against the sky?
Bare limbs,
Barren branches.
I close my eyes against the sun.

3/19/19

www.brucelevine.com

Counting the days
‘Til our new life begins
Waiting and watching
The calendar
Ticking off numbers
Hours and minutes
Until you arrive
Holding my breath
Until your kiss
Breaks the spell
Longing and wanting
Each other from afar
Love crossing oceans
Our bodies tingling
For each other’s touch
The moment of passion
Fulfilled by our hearts
Beating as one
And making new mem’ries
To last through the years
Perfection together
Outlasting all time
A marriage made in Heaven
Blessed by eternity
To love and to hold
In friendship, as lovers
Companions forever
Strengthened each day
With each kiss
With each hug
Our love remains constant
Two hearts now as one

I write two kinds of stories –
Happy endings or killing people –
I guess I’m happy killing people

2/27/19
www.brucelevine.com

I keep on dreaming
There’s some place to live
A romanticized vision
A romanticized walk

Maybe Alaska
Maybe New England
Maybe a seaport
Maybe New York

Expatriate Paris
Tuscany’s villas
Provence at midnight
Perhaps County Cork

Too many novels
Too many movies
Too many stories
Too many dreams

Too many heroes
Too many failures
Too many sidewalks
Too many screams

No place is perfect
No place dramatic
No place to hide out
No place it seems

No more contentment
No more excitement
No more bravado
No more extreme

Only a longing
Only a passion
Only a nightmare
Only a scheme

Finding forever
Finding the moment
Finding contentment
Finding the dream

Van Gogh pervades the air
Mounds of color
Broad free strokes
Freedom unleashed
I look at his work
I look at mine
Starry Night
Am I an extension?
A continuation
In the process
Toward a final goal?
Toward freedom?
Removing the shackles of history
Preventing in his lifetime
The glories remaining unsung
Canvasses unpainted
A chance encounter with fate
And yet I watch
As my hand swiftly crosses the canvass
And I wonder
Would I be here?
Would we all be here?
Are our lives enriched
By his struggle?
Do I face a blank, white canvass
With his eyes?
Do his shadows become mine?
Does the light reflect
As he saw in Arles,
Transcending time?
Enigma
Un-defined
Holding the ghost of reality
Penetrating timeless vacuums
Unable to escape
Unwanting to escape
Unanswered questions
Of metamorphosis
Of passion and devotion
Passed through the ionosphere
Permeating the atmosphere
Filling the crevasses of his life
Of our lives
Of my hand and eyes
Seeing his brush-strokes come alive
Transmutations founded at the precipice
Of a cliff’s edge
To linger in other hands
In my hands
Holding a brush
Dripping color
Blown by the winds of time
Inheritance
The future untold
Perseverance
Preoccupation
Permanence
A legacy of searching
Fulfilled in eternity
In a single drop
Of color

11/20/18