Category: Poetry
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Grief with a Backstory
Grief Every day she held the color photo To her chest Waiting for him To come home, That’s what she said. I was there to borrow The badly wrinkled Marine For tomorrow’s front page. I extended my hand, And she asked, Has the cat been fed? Has the cat been fed Was all she said…
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The Umbrella Lady
A rainy, cold morning at the beach With my dog and I And a woman with a dainty umbrella, Her gaze taking up the entire beach As if it were packed with sunbathers. I hesitate to break her silence And so does the dog. He heels Which he never does when I want him to,…
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Poems As Old Friends
My poems are like old friends I don’t see any more. It’s comforting to know they are there, Untouched, steady and ready To remind me where I’ve been And what I’ve done, what’s been lost And what will be forever.
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Soft Edges
Upon wakening I avoid THE NEWS On my way with three dogs To the backyard Where they pee And I inhale fresh air While saying that silent prayer Where I am truthfully thankful For each moment given me. The day could end here But for the shelling in Ukraine, The nonstop blah-blah of politics, The rise…
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The Battle With Words
Every day words emerge Their tiny fingers gripping The screen’s edges, Eyes blinking, no doubt From too much time in darkness. They arrive en masse, Waiting further instructions From me, I presume, But we have yet to decide What is to be controlled By whom. Am I an empty vessel Adrift on the Nile, Passing…
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The Fog of Life
The Fog of Life thickens as I age. Answers, reasons, connections, increasingly out of sight, But If I sat down, stopped my thoughts, concentrated, I assuredly would uncover something of value. The effort required is the last remaining mystery of life, A puzzle of the mind That defies solving Because it doesn’t get done Even…
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Nightmare Forum
We were standing around in our togas Pontificating When the sun burst through the skies And my thoughts fought off other thoughts In this deadly drone of blah blah Where no one listens or sees Those hallowed walls caving in With all the etched warnings Turning into concrete dust That will hover over our demise.
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The Memory Museum Closes
Breaking News: The memory museum is closed on Mondays And to eliminate confusion every day is now Monday But a new exhibition is planned soon To accommodate the thirst for the past And to quell the uproar over How we’d like to see things On CNN and Fox News. Meanwhile the debate over Mondays Will…
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