So Alone

The soft sound of your familiar voice…
Silenced.

The sweet scent of your honeyed hair…
Faded.

The gentle pulse of your loving touch…
Muted.

The warm assurance of your welcomed hugs…
A memory.

You are here no more,
Yet you are here.
You sing no song
To calm my fear.

Your absence chills me
To the bone.
So lost. So lonely.
So alone.

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On Being Prepared

There be toils aplenty in this life
For which the wary may prepare.
Like when your Mom warned you
To be sure and wear clean underwear.
Like saving for that rainy day
When rations ferret short supply,
Or soldiers never questioning
Why they must keep their powder dry.

Paths grow feet,
And streams bend swift
To seek the seas of distant lands,
And Perseus must watchful be
With sturdy sword and shield in hand.
And every child of every child
Must listen to the zephyr winds
To learn the truth of nature’s call
And know the seeds where day begins.

Wouldst in twilight bold advance,
Or in the eyes of darkness stare
Without the prudence of a plan?
Without the forethought to prepare?

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From Where Did I Come?

I came from a small town.
I came from the country.
Born and raised in a world of unrest.
One of six siblings growing together
Through good times
And bitter times,
Put to the test.

I came from the rolling red hills
Of north Georgia.
I came from the green of the Emerald Isle.
I came from the moors, the
Highlands of Scotland,
The outcast of England o’er many a mile.

I fought the brave Norsemen who
Challenged the seas,
The Redcoats, the red men, the blue.
I fought for the Maine and the Alamo.
W W one and two.
I fought the red peril,
The cold and the hot,
And those who in terror profess.
I came from a lengthy tradition of freedom
That nothing and no one
Can ever suppress.

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Starting Over – Getting Over

Feels so strange
Here without you,
Still and restless, cold and wrong.
I keep listening for your voice
But all my questions fall to dust
And echo off these empty walls
Til silence cries to the Thunder god.

You would not have me sitting here
In mournful sorrow, daylight wasting
Tasting bitter vinegar and hasting
Sundown calm my fear
That I shall never know again
Your gentle touch upon my cheek.

Starting over, such a task,
A burden heavier to bear
Than all the Herculean trials 
Of ancient heroes rolled to one.

They say I must get over you,
Move on with new purpose and direction.
I find myself lost, confused and alone
Somewhere between prospect
And quiet reflection.

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Black Stallion – Gray Fox

Crystalline majesty abounds 
As black flanks and silver heels
Launch lightening to a crescent moon.
While crazed eyes of the willful beast
Gaze far beyond the mountaintop.
Who can tame him?
Who will name him?
Who dares blame his stubborn way?
Staunchly defiant.
Non-compliant,
Free to run another day.

Gray fox slips behind the screen of
Forest foliage stealthily, so many
Predators farther up the chain,
Courage effaced by the need for survival, 
Cunning and quickness the tools of his trade.
So many enemies
Akin to infinity
Wary and willing to hide.
Weary at end of day,
Wrestling to find a way,
Thankful to simply survive.

Black stallion – gray fox,
Creatures of Eden. Both
Grateful for being alive.

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That Old Bucket List

What harm to dream?
To laugh?
To languish in
A world of fantasies
With all the possibilities?
Would fate be so unkind
Or thus inclined
To sore deny that piece of the pie
And thus, fulfill the thrill
Of bother be, the one
That holds the quiet key to
Peace of mind.

The list is quite long,
But will can be strong
So that if you insist
And enlist to persist
Good fortune will knock
With the key to unlock
Every portal confined in
The back of my mind,
And bring to fruition
That old bucket list.

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Cousin Arthur – A Pain in the…

You cause me so much pain,
Vile bane of age
And foe of innocence,
You slave me to a curse
Of limitations I can scarce abide.
What once was snap
And quickly cinched
Is now a labor for the young
As I need only wait and watch
As though my hands were tied.

At least my mind maintains its bloom,
Though not as quick in raillery,
My inner sage has lost its rage
In favor of profundity.
But Arthur and his cousins foul:
Tendon, Bursa and Fasci,
Along with their accomplices
Breed deep and low and nasty.

I yield not to this terrorist
Nor any of his lot,
And if the bane resides in pain,
I’ll take all that he’s got.

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Bingo Wednesday

Many, plenty, busy battles brew
To fuel a hectic week.
Often chiming, seldom rhyming,
Finding the right words to speak.
Washday Thursday,
Friday’s fury,
Shopping waits for Saturday.
Sunday worship, family dinners,
Monday morning bills to pay.
Tuesday finds no time for respite
Even though one seeks release.
Only Wednesday offers solace.
Bingo Wednesday
Brings sweet peace.

How can chaos bring such pleasure?
How can aggravation serve to
Soothe and salvage frantic frenzy,
Knowing dwindling vim and verve?
Hard to say where peace might muster.
It’s temporary anyway.
All I know is bingo Wednesday
Was born to chase all cares away.

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A Senior Moment – or Two

There are no words,
No understated understanding,
No common sense or rule of reason
Lets me know the reason why
Such fits of memory, or its lack,
Should hack my often-pristine thoughts
To cause a fatal gap so long and wide.

I see, and yet my eyes are blind.
I hear but echoes in my mind.
I feel with fingers disinclined.
I taste the waste of bitter wine.
The favored savors I once knew
That graced the air with such ado
Are faded like the morning dew
To places I may ne’er pursue.

Oh, angst of age,
Where peace should dwell,
Sad gnawing, nagging beast from Hell,
Lost logic bids a bold adieu
To have a moment, maybe two.

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Distinguished Gentleman

“I love that little touch of gray,”
Her eyes would speak much more than words.
Her pouty lips would curl to kiss,
“You know, I gave you every one.”
And as she ran her fingers through the
Thinning curls, her eyes’ embrace
Was more than meager tenderness.
It was our song, as yet unsung.

She, my humble lady fair,
Aware of all my faults and flaws,
My better equal in all tasks,
My conscience when decisions weigh.
And I, her knight in dusty armor,
Laying roses at her feet,
Praying that tomorrow grants this
Happiness for one more day.

Bold distinguished gentleman that I
Aspire to always be,
Smoldering embers in my heart
Keep her in my memory.

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Old Photos

Old photos are the best,
Especially when they bring back memories
Long forgotten, tucked away
In golden vaults like precious jewels.
Thirty-fives and Polaroids
Passed around to aging eyes
Filling hearts with happy tears
Of days before we learned the rules.

Grandpa’s ’57 Ford of unknown color.
Who can tell? Aunt Nellie shot in
Black and white.
She hadn’t switched to color yet.
But Grandpop’s pride was evident
As he put many happy smiles
On gleeful faces, windblown traces,
Fleeting times with no regrets.

Taking just a modicum of
Time and space to reminisce
Bygone days bereft of sorrow,
No time or tears to second guess.

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Going Home

They say you can’t go home again after
Time has stolen all your
Childhood memories from bygone days.
Replacing them instead with whiffs of
Progress and regression,
Finding old familiar haunts
Lost within a maze.

Old friends, some still treading there,
(Others long and far away)
Flashing forlorn withered faces
Painted with synthetic smiles.
Slapping thighs as they remember
Youthful tanned exuberance of
How they got from there to here.
“Won’t you sit and stay a while.”

Sorry that I cannot tarry,
Tempting as the thought may be. 
But I have other worlds to conquer,
Other realms to search and roam.
Chance that when my trek is over
And my feet need firmer ground
Time proclaims my travels finished 
And will find me going home.

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I Love you. Did I Say I love you?

Sweet, yet bittersweet the words
Whispered, almost breathless with
Devotion and assurance.
Searching for response in kind that
She knew was sure to come as does
An echo in an empty hallway tenderly return.
She didn’t even realize those
Same three words had passed her lips
But moments since
And I had reassured her that
I loved her, too.

What I said, but had not said,
That I would run through raging fire
If that was what she asked of me,
That I would stand beside her
If the plagues of Hell rained on our heads.

What she said, but had not said,
That she would walk me hand in hand
Down every pathway to the end,
To guide me with her shining star
And be my rainbow’s pot of gold.

“I love you. Did I say I love you?”
Yes, my love.
You did.

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Short-Term Memory

I walked in here for something, I swear.
Now, wait. Just give me a moment.
I was sitting in there when
A thought pierced the air
Like the stealth clamor from an informant.

It seems like a plot from
A gaslight adventure,
Some frivolous misguided scam,
That I should make haste
And my time be a waste when
I’m not even sure where I am.

It plagues me no end
That my mind is no friend
When the details elude and evade.
And I wonder how long
I can keep going wrong
Til the piper at last must be paid.

This short-term failure, it comes and it goes,
Fading in, fading out, fade away.
So, I think A to Z
Til it comes back to me
And I can get on with my day.

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I’m Not Ready to Let Go

How many memories can one heart hold?
How many years are enough?
Why must the ending be so bittersweet?
To where does the time disappear?

There are no limits on memories, I’m told,
As Father Time teases his bluff,
And endings lay treasures of gold at out feet
As life gently soothes every tear.

At least that’s the theory.
It’s what we are bid to believe
As we grieve day by day.
But deep down inside
Where the soul shrinks to hide
There’s an aching that won’t go away.

And I must admit
That the mantle won’t fit
As I sit in a stuporous throe
And stumble and pray
Someone shows me the way.
So unready to let you go.

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Honey Do

There’s no need to badger on
With such incessant urgency
About the “oh, so many” tasks
That plague to steal my precious time.

“Don’t worry, Hon. I’ll get it done,”
My good intentions always say.
But I’ve had odd priorities,
Other hills to scout and climb.

But don’t you fret,
I’ll get to it, Babe.
Though time may slide and slip away.
No need to rush.
I have the list right here.

Just let me sit and rock a bit
And then I’ll get right on it
And finish in a flash,
So, don’t you fear.

But this old chair is comfy and my nap is overdue.
So, the numbers just keep growing
On my list of “honey-do”.

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I Can’t Eat That Anymore

Hot dogs topped with sauerkraut and the
Spicy mustard I adore.
Blaze-hot jalapeno
Meant to make me sweat from every pore.
Greasy, cheesy pizza crowned with
Every topping in the store.
Take it all away ‘cause
I can’t eat that anymore.

Time was, not so long ago,
(It really seems like ages though)
That any grub to grab and go
Could fit my appetite.
And though I’m not persnickety
There’re many foods that get to me
And seem to wage a battle
I am not prepared to fight.

I could just grin and bear the bill,
Or have a cup of chamomile
And maybe I’d be fine as wine
To even up the score.
But I just keep on tempting fate,
Remorseful over what I ate,
Regretfully repeating,
“I can’t eat that anymore.”

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My Best Girl

I couldn’t guess the many-a-mile
We walked together hand in hand,
Both literal and metaphorical,
Til viscid palms would not let go.
And people stare and whisper low
As though it’s hard to understand
How those our age can still engage
In childish act we should outgrow.

I don’t care what others think
Or how they act or what they say.
She’s my best girl,
My lucky song,
My guiding star,
My rudder, my sail.
She’s everything precious in my world as
I travel on life’s weary way.
With her hand in mine
I always can find
A peaceful ending to any travail.

We may not see the ending together.
Life can be cruel that way.
But I’ll hold her hand til
The last fleeting moment,
Fulfilling the vow of our wedding day.

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Age is Just a Number

Father Time is masterful at
Changing plots and storylines,
And all bear witness as
The transformations are discerned.
As season shifts to season
Etched in incremental stages,
Mortality becomes
An unavoidable concern.

But age is just a number
And old is but a state of mind.
And I’ll be here (until I’m not),
So, set the feast and pour the wine.

Like Mister Frost whose lifelong task
Was oft misunderstood,
But found the road to longevity
In a lonely yellow wood.
Or Glenn, the younger, circumnavigating
Time and space
To Glenn, the elder, after
Seven decades and still in the chase.

So, let the aging process roll
Unchecked and unforgiving,
And I’ll be here (until I’m not)
To make the most of living.

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This Book

This book in my hand
Does not weigh me down
Nor spawn an encumbrance
To imagination.
It lifts me on wings to
Fly through the mirror
To magical shores
Of intense inspiration.

The yeoman in me craves
The bliss of blind whimsey,
Borne over oceans,
Shared in the sky to
Glide to adventures
Beyond sweeping eons,
Landing in who knows where,
When, how or why.

Leafing and leaping and
Launching through time
From the comfort and cozy of
My easy chair.
No matter the object
Of my fascination, this book…
This book will take me there.

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If Only

If only I could capture
This sate feeling of elation,
Learn to seal it in a bottle
For when times are not so fair,
Open it for faithful friends
In loving lavish celebration
For lusty dreams and tangled schemes
Of common themes we share.

If only time could take a pause
To relish in this treasure,
To taste the clover honey
Of a sunny afternoon,
To linger but a fleeting breath
And savor life’s pure pleasure
With ne’er a thought that
It might all be over much too soon.

Every magic moment precious,
Every fence an open gate,
Every blessing sent from Heaven
Is a cause to celebrate.

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A Sonnet to Joy

Easy to rejoice in jubilation
For fair and festive victories in life.
And revelry proclaims the celebration
In rituals complete with drum and fife.

Praise to all who join in my elation,
Who frolic with delight my happiness.
To share the mirth and hoist a stout libation
And sing a song or two to my success.

But in the subtle ecstasy of others
I oft time lack the glee they entertain.
Perhaps a touch of anxious envy bothers
To douse my eyes with feathers of disdain.

Lord, help me find the wisdom to attend
The joyful celebration of a friend.

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Texas 1971-72

Leaving home for newfound adventures,
Just the two of us on our own
Two thousand plus miles from
Family and friends,
Fledgling companions together – alone.

Who can we cling to?
New town – no friends,
All unfamiliar in fit or flair.
Olive drab convoys humping the highways on
Juxtaposed journeys going nowhere.

Who chose this Devil’s den
Void of amenities
So near the shores of
The Earth’s ragged end?
Where disquiet dwells in
The green sky of hailstones
And summertime swelter
Is nobody’s friend.

Test of our testament to one another,
A decade of displeasure packed in one year.
Thankful to flee, once our sentence is over,
Back to a place where we won’t disappear.

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Life Lessons

Who was that angry young hot-headed hooligan
Ranting and raving in rivulets of rage?
Awash with the angst of
Contrite consternation,
Keen to react and so quick to engage.
Hustling highways and bristling byways
To get it done my way and rush to the end.
Smashing resistance with strident insistence
Til left and bereft in pursuit of a friend.

Always in danger of onerous anger
Amidst all the clangorous chatter and noise,
Struggling with all my might
Just to avoid a fight,
Grappling to score without losing all poise.

But tough times and trials and tragic tears
Can soften a once stoic steel veneer
Til tall walls of frowns come tumbling down
To fancy as winglets for fantasy’s fears.
And though these life lessons so smartly serve
As treasures (much more that I deserve),
I would not, will not, cannot swerve
And allow old angers to reappear.

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On Being the Age of Us

Boomers, beware! The seasons are changing,
Paths rearranging and fading fast.
The soft silent Spring that rained on your Summer is
Fumbling, tumbling into the past.

Try as you may to stop time in her paces,
She flashes many faces,
Escapes without traces.
And though you may witness
Her bounty of graces
You know she must win in the end.

She doles us her favors on limited basis
To run out our races
In various places.
With all of the gusto good harvest embraces
She dons the mock mask of a friend.

But those of our age
Are not fooled by her witness.
We’ve seen where her
Nightmarish limits reside.
We live in our moment
Secure in our hour
With faith in the prize
On the other side.

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Who Knows What Tomorrow May Bring?

ALL:
Magical rainbows have always been there.
We don't know when they'll appear.
Ours is a future of promises made.
We don't look back and there's no need to fear all the
Rain clouds and thunder, the dark and the gloom.
They're not a part of the scene.
We'll hold our heads far above stormy clouds
To see what tomorrow may bring                                                                                                               
DJ:                 
Starting a new life is scary for me,
But scarier it was by far
Thinking that you weren't a part of my life,
But now I know that you are.

KATE:           
Seeing your face and just holding your hand,
It makes my heart truly sing.

KATE & DJ   
Now we are ready to face a new day
And see what tomorrow may bring.

ALL                
Starlight and moonbeams appear everywhere
Casting a magical spell.
Voices in harmony fly through the air
Filled with a song that we all know so well
Til that moment of silence when no one may speak.
Suddenly everyone sings.
Wondering, wandering, waiting to know...
To see what tomorrow brings.

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