It’s a Pleasure

We meet…

And it’s a pleasure

From a handshake to a hug,

From an eye-induced embarkment

To a ladened bon voyage.

 

In a smile-embraced encounter

A melody in tune,

Some soon to be nostalgia in

A memory collage.

 

Defeat is not a measure

To consider in our world.

It’s a place reserved for others

Who’ve forgotten how to win.

 

As we stand at the finish line

And savor victory,

We look toward another contest

And remember where we’ve been.

 

And when the day is over

And the music fades away,

When angels call to glory

And our story starts anew,

 

I’ll write you one more love song

As the light begins to dim

To tell you one last time

It was a pleasure loving you.

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Leave It Alone

There are times when a well-spoken word

Can bring peace to a troubled world,

But lately the words between us

Only get in the way.

The more that we talk, the more we sound bitter

Til the words finally cut to the bone.

I believe that it might have been better

To just leave it alone.

 

The world will keep turning, and

Hearts will keep yearning

In whispers that speak soft and low.

But your words undo me,

The anger cuts through me,

And I simply can’t let it go.

 

A handful of laughter can’t hide

All the heartache we hold inside.

There’s just not much left to say

When the feeling is gone.

If we can’t learn trust in each other

There’s no need to talk at all.

We might as well talk to ourselves

And just leave it alone.

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A Song for You

Maybe Elton John could have

Done a better job,

Or John Denver in his subtle and bemused

Befuddled way.

They knew the nuance needed,

All the buttons to be pushed

To make all the ladies tingle

As they gently swoon and sway.

But

         <Chorus>

This song’s for you.

No one else can steal the show,

And I know it’s true

That our love can only grow.

Right from the start

It’s as if I always knew

That my heart will always sing

A song for you.

 

True love is forever

Or at least that’s what they say.

When you find that special someone to adore.

You find it growing stronger

Every minute, every day,

Strolling hand in hand

Through every open door.

And

         <Repeat Chorus>

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I Believe in Miracles

I believe in every heart

There lives an inner dream

Walking hand in hand with hope

Waiting for the day

When just a touch, a fleeting glance

Can sometimes lead us on

To a land where miracles

Are common so they say.

I believe in miracles.

I see one every day.

When I look into your eyes

I know that it must be true.

Never stop and never doubt

That Heaven looked my way.

I believe in miracles.

I believe in you.

 

You were only passing through,

Could have walked on by.

Never gave a second thought

To this poor fool’s company.

But Heaven must have intervened

When that sunbeam caught your eye,

And beckoned you to follow through

And led you here to me.

I believe in miracles.

I see one every day.

When I look into your eyes

I know that it must be true.

Never stop and never doubt

That Heaven looked my way.

I believe in miracles.

I believe in you.

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Beware of Angels

When I met you we couldn’t have been happier.

We had everything lovers can desire.

There was never a doubt in my mind

Our story was forever.

I called you my angel straight from paradise

With a voice singing sweetly like a choir,

And a promise you’d always be true

And you would leave me never.

But

Beware of angels

         Making promises that they can’t keep

Beware of angels

         Breaking hearts and leaving scars so deep

Beware of angels.

         Leaves you weeping through the lonely night.

Beware of angels.

No one can say what makes love fade away,

No body even wants to know.

But even an angel can change

And not know the reason why.

But the touch of your fingers,

The tear in your eye,

Saying, “Darling, it’s time for me to go”,

And my heart stops beating as I realize

This is goodbye.

So

Beware of angels

         Making promises that they can’t keep

Beware of angels

         Breaking hearts and leaving scars so deep

Beware of angels.

         Leaves you weeping through the lonely night.

Beware of angels.

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Old Stoneface

Trying to glimpse at a hint of reflection

From smoky gray eyes is impossible.

Like playing poker with Old Stoneface

When the stakes on the table are do or die.

 

No reason why you should hide in your mask,

Sweating the task of incumbent relief,

Mystical thief of presumed confidence,

You bait me, and I take your delicate hook.

 

Your crown of bamboozlement tilts to the right,

And I am left sporting the court jester’s hat.

No surprise that when the cards are revealed

My fate is sealed and the rent money’s lost.

 

Such is the cost of a gambler’s trade,

Hope dashed to pieces more often than not.

Lessons forgotten or never quite learned,

Betrayed by a face made of stone.

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In Need of a Blessing

I don’t ask for much; there’s

Not too much I truly need;

A book, a pencil, a quiet hour

Nesting in my easy chair.

 

The trials of a hectic day

A spinning top slowly winding down

To a wobble, a wiggle,

A final spin.

At rest til started up again.

 

So, why feel cheated? Discontent?

What great malady ensues?

Is the quest so daunting

That it makes me cry for

Devine benevolence to intervene?

Is the path so troubled and

Fraught with brambles that

Every step is a task of its own?

 

Perhaps the masters of overstatement

Have sold me a house in sad need of repair,

A money pit with no end to the cycle,

Forever in need.

Forever in need.

In need of acceptance.

In need of a prophesy.

In need of a blessing

To find my way.

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A Quiet Storm

Subtleties that bake and boil

Smoldering under a noonday sun,

Never quite erupting into

Molten fire and lava,

 

Never billowing the skies

With fiery ash and fever.

Never raging, ravaging

In naked holocaust.

 

Most content to view events

With quiet desperation,

Riding out the mounting waves

That crash against the shores.

 

Lifting up her chin against

A wall of rain torrential

More intent on what was won

Than what she might have lost.

 

Let the storm pass – as it will –

Let Hades dissipate.

The gold that lies at rainbows end

Is surely worth the wait.

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Bow Out Gracefully

Makes me wonder if ever you cared,

This thunderous wanderlust

Bordered by prejudice

Edging an infamous side-tracking jaunt.

Base lining odd treatment

Mainlining argument

Streamlining instruments ready to flaunt.

 

It was no accident

Shielded by incidence

Trashing our picket fence,

Making your choice.

You never gave a clue

Pounding the avenue

Looking for something new,

Losing your voice.

 

Now we need look beyond

Sunset, to break the dawn

Now that our past has gone slithering by.

Bowing out gracefully

What was not meant to be

Comes about naturally.

No need to cry.

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Heart Bender

Do not fold, spindle or mutilate

This heart.

It is sent to you

Preformed, filled with

A billion delights

All ready to eat like

A chocolate surprise.

Open your eyes to

An optical feast

From the most to the least

Stretching hither to yon.

 

Hope springs from darkness,

Searches for light with

A fever and fervor

Reserved for the righteous to

Bask in the glow,

Forever to grow,

 

To bend but not break

If the answer is “no”.

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For Love or Money

Funny, the reasons so often decried

For actions unfettered,

Undisclosed.

The weeping, the wailing,

The tight upscale railing,

The lies and disguises,

The sinking boat bailing.

 

More often than not

All filters down to

One or the other,

Sometimes both.

 

Be it love or money,

Persimmons or honey,

Dark, dank or sunny

The net of its worth is

A price worth its weight in

Emotion or cash, and

Choice is the demon who

Rations the stash.

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Giving

Take your pleasures

Where you find them;

At least that’s what I’ve always heard.

Doesn’t mean you

Step on toes to

Writhe in throes of ecstasy.

 

Simple acts of kindness carry

Special blessings in their tote,

Free to all who spread their joy,

Joy to all who spread them free.

 

Is it just me?

Might you agree?

Might pilgrims see the

High degree of blessings

Held in giving hands

Riding on an endless sea.

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Awake at Midnight

Watching walls…

         Awake again

With midnight creeping past my door.

Mind awash with daylight dread,

Thoughts unsaid,

         Sad regrets.

 

A million ways to make amends

For slights and slashes of the tongue,

Songs unsung or sung so much

They cannot leave my hollow head.

 

Nagging hunger for a slice of

Humble pie as recompense.

Trying hard to make some sense of

Arguments and quarrels.

 

Oh, the horror.

         Ah, the humor.

Steeped in rumored innuendo

Meant to send no earthly message

For the masses to ignore.

 

Oh, that I could clear my head of

Past regrets,

         Future frets.

Perhaps I would not find myself alone

         Awake at midnight.

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Trust

I will not question your remiss.

You cannot help your folly in

A frenzied, fashioned, frivolous

Profusion of profession.

 

Within a welt of weariness

Without a weathered wariness

You seethe a certain innocence

That escalates confusion.

 

How could I doubt?

Why should I shout?

What kind of lout would question?

To taunt or mock

Would cause a shock

But garner no confession.

 

I will not cry

Or alibi

Or grumble in disgust.

Sometimes the fat

Is rendered to

A simple act of trust.

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Blessings Abound

My humble life has been so blessed

In myriad of ways,

I offer up a thankful prayer

For every breath I take.

So many acts of thoughtfulness

And debts I must repay

To friend or foe or family

Or just for kindness sake.

 

I lift my gaze up to the clouds

And somewhere far beyond,

To all of those who’ve gone before,

Who entered Heaven’s gate,

Who searched for something to believe

But ended all too soon,

And took with them a comfort

That had always been their fate.

 

Blessings are not hard to find,

They’re scattered all around.

One only needs to look inside

To see where they abound.

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Fleet Afoot

The racing speed of a desperate cheetah…

The delicate grace of his fleeing prey…

With deft and defiance an agile surfer

Angles the crest of an angry wave.

 

High-stepping kickers on pitch, field or rink

Leap with dexterity, race to the goal…

Turning the tables to stem the aggression…

Quick to defend… Eager to save.

 

I stand in amazement,

Staggered in awe,

Cheer for the effort

As if it were mine.

Praise to the winner,

Bask in the glory.

Sharing a toast, let us

Savor the wine.

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Life Goes On

If the end is the beginning and

The portal must be breached,

Then the search need not fall heavily

Upon the beaten masses who

Sit and weep and keep the vigil

Deep into the night,

Who cast their gaze toward heaven til

The hopeless feeling passes.

 

And you and I bear witness

And stalk uneasy truths

And wonder at the wonder of

The awful wondrousness.

Dare we pose the question?

Dare we to offer answer?

Are we somehow at fault and

If we are, do we confess?

 

For every sparkling dewdrop

For every baby’s cry

For every lilt of laughter in

A halt and brazen world

There lives a new beginning

There lives a sad goodbye 

A bittersweet dilemma

As the story is unfurled.

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Seasons

I would not want to live in a place

Where seasons do not habitate

To spread the wondrous magic of

Their ever-changing fickle face.

In jest one may make comment

When the climate is in perfect pitch,

“Oh, if only it could be like this

The whole year round, it would be bliss.”

 

But foolish words are often uttered

And selfish thoughts prevail until

The parts and sum are reconciled

And truth is finally revealed.

The bitter bite of winter’s teeth

Not so hard to endure when

The knowledge of rekindled birth

Lies waiting in the springtime rain.

 

A burst of blossoms greening earth

Reviving all the hope of youth,

Mellowing into the truth that

Ages into summer wine.

And summer passes into autumn

As her leaves begin to fall

In triple-glorious profusion,

Nature’s pallet filled with awe.

 

Let me live in hemispheres where

Angels tilt the fragile scale,

Where light is dark and dark is light

And seasons can prevail.

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Grace

Swift… The sword can be

         So unforgiving

Striking at random

         In tandem or thrice

Stalking the night in

         Succinct predilection

Pumped with bravado

         Knowing no shame

Where is my White Knight

         On galloping steed?

Swift to the fray he rides

         Brandishing steel

Taking the mantel of

         Conquering angel

Holding the laurel of

         Sweet victory

 

Grace be my savior

         Hope my redeemer

Yielding a kiss on

         My welcoming cheek

Offering manna replete

         Sweet with honey

Wrapped in blue velvet to

         Comfort my soul

Blessings abide as

         The sun hugs horizons

Always tomorrow in

         His home or mine

Filled with a confidence

         Uncompromising

Fear cannot live in

         A house blessed by grace.

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Zones Forbidden

There are places we're not meant to go,

Walls that we're not meant to scale,

Battles fought with foe so mighty,

No point,

No chance we may prevail.

 

Still there are those who dare to try,

Who face unknown and test their fear.

Often beaten, torn and shattered,

Battered into mournful tears.

 

There lies in our human spirit,

Deep inside, most often hidden,

Staunch defiance, daring do,

To travel into zones forbidden.

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Zero Hour

Check again.  Is all in order?

Have you everything?

Check out time and you're not ready.

Typical to say the least.

Piddle, piddle, dawdle, diddle,

Never in a rush until

Zero hour comes and you

Become a raving beast,

Ranting, rushing willy-nilly,

Hither-tither to and fro.

Time ticks shorter every second

Watching your impatience grow.

Planning would have been a plus.

Perhaps you wouldn't be so sour

If you had concentrated, honing in

On this, the zero hour.

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You Are There

Witness... You are witness...

You are fabric...

You are there.

The truth calls out your name from

All directions... Everywhere.

Fact has found you one with nature,

Naked, unaware.

There's no crying, no denying,

Face it!

You are there.

Where did you think that you were headed?

Some far off distant isle?

Peeling grapes and coconuts

Or living a life of style in

A villa near to coastal waters

In the south of Spain?

Where no one stops to ask you favor.

No one gives you pain.

Oh, if it could only be...

But life seems seldom fair.

Where you are

Is where you are.

Face it...

You are there.

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Yesterday's Child

All too seldom yesterday comes

Knocking on the door,

Beckoning reminders of

The way it used to be.

Playful little tidbits meant

To tease the aging process,

Far too distant to return

Except in memory.

Whimsically, they're set in place,

Mind games of deception,

Artful in the conquest of our time.

Tipped with vinegar and honey,

Complete with background music,

A sweet and sour poem set to rhyme.

In the hustle and the bustle

Of our hectic lives,

When problems of the world

Are heaped and piled,

Meditations of the past will

Ease the pain of tension,

As we search for

Yesterday's sweet child.

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X-Ray of the Soul

Broken bones can be detected,

Then set in place to heal.

Physicians never have to guess

With modern day machines.

Take a picture. Look inside.

X-ray will reveal

The battered, tattered, broken matter

That was previously unseen.

Sad to say this wonder,

This precious miracle,

Is not the grand solution to all ill.

If only we could somehow take

An x-ray of the soul,

Very few could stand

To pay the bill.

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"X" Marks the Spot

On a multicolored treasure map created and

Designed by youth,

Experience draws lines and markers,

Scaling facts,

Pointing truth.

Goals begin to focus as

Objectives become clear.

Fact spreads like a virus

As calm belabors fear.

Hoping to achieve,

Glad to receive the gifts we got.

Searching, ever searching,

For the 'x' that marks the spot.

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Wash Day

Mom's old wringer washer was an ominous contraption,

Back porch dweller, silent sentinel.

But wash day saw it spring to life

With reckless wild abandon,

A fire-breathing dragon sent from hell.

 

Water drawn from nearby well

To feed her empty belly,

Carried pail by pail 'til she was full.

Grinding agitation as she

Mauled her fabric diet,

Everything from silk to scratchy wool.

 

Mother's little helpers would

Complain and run away,

Much too busy for such mundane tasks.

Totally exasperated, trudging on ahead,

She'd grit her teeth and don her mother's mask.

 

Washing, wringing, rinsing, ringing,

Ringing once again,

Seemed a never-ending carousel.

Difficult but necessary,

Mom did not complain.

She tamed the weekly dragon sent from hell.

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Walking Through the Wood

Master rabbit foraging,

Where is your home address?

Do you believe I mean no harm?

Forgive me to confess that

I am only passing through your

Neighborhood upon this day,

An interested observer

Here to watch you as you play.

 

Walking through the wood

In search of secrets, nature's guise.

Pleasuring my mind with beauty

Filtered through these eyes,

Sheltered in your forest womb,

A modern Robin Hood,

Seeking peace and solitude

Walking through the wood.

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Victory Is Easy - But Someone Has To Lose

Winning can be such a welcome bouquet.

Roses and lilacs should smell half as sweet.

Victory rides on the wings of the tides to leave

Sparkling pearls on the shore at our feet.

Counted so rare, the favor we savor

When triumph uplifts over summit and peak.

Hardly a thought of the depths of dilemma

Suffered by those trodden down in defeat.

 

Winning is easy. It bears not the burden

Of inward reflection, inspection or thought.

A wild and untethered complete celebration

Is what you expect from the battle you fought.

But out in the wings there awaits a new challenge.

Take care which opponent you knowingly choose,

For only the winner can claim victory's laurels.

Someone has to lose.

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Voices from The Past

Oft life offers difficulties,

Plagues of indecisiveness,

Barrel-chested thugs who pound

On reason with an iron fist.

Cannibals of logic,

Clear confusion from mass offerings,

Twisted, thwarted, thrashed and trashed

'Til every point is soundly missed.

 

What would FDR have done?

Would doctor King just preach and pray?

Would Confucius have the answer?

What would Gandhi say?

Would your grandpa share your burden?

Could old friend's advice apply?

Can philosophers of old help lift

The darkness from your eyes?

 

There's a time for us to listen,

Keeping pace, but not too fast.

A cloak of benefit abides within

These voices from the past.

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Visionary

Future calls to visionaries

With a voice so subtle that

It's only heard in whispers

Born on gently curving winds.

 

Sighted knowledge bears ideas

Filling oceans of the mind,

Giving nurture to the fruitful

Garden that we tend.

 

Scoffed and mocked and laughed about

For laying bare the plots and schemes.

Still unscathed with brow well-set

In seeking out their wildest dreams.

 

Always there, just out of reach,

An overflowing treasure chest.

Visionaries reach beyond,

Clutching diamonds to their breast.

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Useless Conversation

Almost a whisper the ear strains to hear,

Caught in a circle with no place to go.

Merely a greeting, a "how do you do?"

Rhetorical. Really not wanting to know.

 

Yesterday's detail reviewed once again.

Polite chit-chat, etchings mundane.

Simple retelling of soap opera lives

Can drive thinking people to think they're insane.

 

Wrapped up in newspaper, out with the trash...

Like a fish three days after it's caught.

Time better spent immersed in invention,

The simple art of common thought.

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Under The Sheltering Pines

Carpeting brown beneath canopy green,

Layer on layer so spongy and plush

That the sole of my shoe makes no sound

As I stroll through the stand,

So endearing, I dare not to rush.

Afraid I may miss the sweet laughter of robins

Proclaiming their conquest

Pulled fresh from the earth.

I seek out their nesting place every springtime,

Amazed and bewitched at nature's rebirth.

 

But the pine is a constant.

It always endures.

With roots running deeper than diamond mines.

So blissful to saunter,

Admiring the view,

In the shade of the sheltering pines.

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Umbilical

Even before we pass into this world,

Before the first life-breath invades our breast,

A bond of attachment is formed in the mind,

Bred in the heart, in the womb where we rest.

 

Breaking free only means changing our course

And direction. Freedom itself is benign.

Certain connections can never be broken.

Some things can never be left behind.

 

Trading in secrets of youthful dimension,

Bargaining, bartering, striving to grow,

Trace the umbilical to its beginning.

The past tells the future which way it must go.

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Testing Memory

Life is just a "jeopardy" game.

Someone yells the answer,

And you wonder what the question was.

Sometimes you hesitate and think.

Sometimes you answer without pause.

Sometimes you ponder and reflect,

"I used to know that way back when".

But then before you can remember

Some smartass comes buzzing in

To steal your thunder,

Such a blunder.

Thinks he's such a modern wonder.

Makes you want to dig a hole

And put him about six feet under....

Only kidding... Just a game.

Violence is sick and lame.

And I'm sure that you'll agree,

It's such fun testing memory.

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Total Recall

I remember it all...

Every word, every sigh,

Every breath to the last...

Silent echo... Goodbye.

Waiting motionless...

Senseless denial of rest.

Counting the rise and fall

Of your chest.

Time becoming a road without end.

Taking the measure of this gentle friend.

Each second is stilled.

I remember it all.

A burden to carry,

This total recall.

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Thrown Back

Like a fish too small to bother...

Doesn't register or rate...

Tossed back into murky waters.

Wasted time. Wasted bait.

 

Young love spurned and unrequited...

Heart of glass begins to crack...

Till it shatters into pieces...

Mercilessly thrown back.

 

Wiser now and more mature...

Bitter hindsight turned around

To face the cold hard facts ahead,

To not look back,

Not look down.

 

Knowing that the pond holds many

As we glide among the pack,

One will find and swim beside me.

We will never be thrown back.

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Searching For Details

The ifs and whens and

Wherefores and therefores.

The whats, the whos and whys

Plague the air in search of a reason.

Searching for details

To uncover lies.

Forces of evil surround the encampment.

Flagrantly rumoring innuendo,

Disseminating their disinformation,

Clouding the truth with a blanket of snow.

Fact into fiction,

Fiction to fact.

Follow the paper trail,

Find and attack.

Becoming a sleuth with a monocled brow.

Searching for details,

Wondering how.

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Snakes and Lizards

Don't like slimly...

Don't like slinky...

Don't like creepy, crawly, stinky...

Don't like flies or

Bees or bugs...

Snakes or lizards...

Snails or slugs.

I know boys are supposed to like

Things that slither, sting or bite.

It's just curiosity. They say that's how it ought to be.

Well,

Call me crazy.

Call me strange.

To me it seems a bit deranged

To want to see or

Even touch

These snakes and lizards,

Bugs and such.

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Souvenirs

I recall when we climbed "Stone Mountain",

Looking out over mile after mile

Of tall Georgia pine reaching skyward

In worship. It still makes me smile

To think of that day, so majestic and free

Where sight never sees and sound never hears.

A small piece of granite

From high on the mountain

Became my most treasured

Of all souvenirs.

Not platinum or silver,

Not diamond or gold,

Not emerald or ruby red stone.

A piece of a memory.

A glorious moment.

God and the mountain...

And me all alone.

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