Golf is a game of recovery; there's
an eagle and sometimes a seagull to keep a
lonely man company, an albatross but no bluebird.
Life is a game of recovery.  We all want in.
Whether it be the cup or Heaven, my
guess is triple bogey and a broken heart.

(for Cyril Connolly)

The piers are pummelled by the waves;
In a lonely field the rain
Lashes an abandoned train;
Outlaws fill the mountain caves.

Fantastic grow the evening gowns;
Agents of the Fisc pursue
Absconding tax-defaulters through
The sewers of provincial towns.

Private rites of magic send
The temple prostitutes to sleep;
All the literati keep
An imaginary friend.

Cerebrotonic Cato may
Extol the Ancient Disciplines,
But the muscle-bound Marines
Mutiny for food and pay.

Caesar's double-bed is warm
As an unimportant clerk
Writes I DO NOT LIKE MY WORK
On a pink official form.

Unendowed with wealth or pity,
Little birds with scarlet legs,
Sitting on their speckled eggs,
Eye each flu-infected city.

Altogether elsewhere, vast
Herds of reindeer move across
Miles and miles of golden moss,
Silently and very fast.

Disney, cruise,  
  Vancouver,
    To Hawaii Blues.
Four year delay,
  Covid got in
    the way!
Loved walking
  Waikiki.
The "Arizona"
  Got to  me.
Diamond Head,
   A sight to see!
Stood upon a
  Volcano rim.
Watched, the
   turtles, swim.
Had a great time
At a luau.
But, I'm back
Now!
Hoping to find,
A good rhyme.

I've been tickled
By reality
Laughing at
my lonesome life

It hurts like no other

when a friend

stabs you with

the knife of betrayal

from behind.

Gentle cool breeze

come a little closer

will you carry

my secret message

to the one I love

with all my heart

and whisper into his ears

that I love him very much.

Your lips trace kisses along my hairline
You are cooing a nursery rhyme
I thought you may want to channel your inner John Legend
But you tell me the better things in life
Are simple, unforced, innocent
Like seeing through the eyes of a little child
And that was how you loved me
In pure devotion