Perhaps you want a moment for reflection
Or a glimpse of someone’s struggles with perfection.
Even greyhounds need a clear, still light
To bring them to the precipice of night.
Rest here, then, where joys and sorrows blend;
Yearning needs no goal and has no end.
Be like a bell, and let me be your tongue:
Your thoughts will toll when I’ve your passions rung.
Nor can I know what words will strike your ears:
In poems one’s life transfigures what one hears.
Clear words contain a silence still as glass,
Horizons as remote as distant brass,
Old meanings darting luminous in pools
Like light caught in the blaze of well-cut jewels.
All this exists like sound without a bell;
So be its instrument, and listen well.
Give my poems the courtesy of space;
Often they need room to show their grace.
Reason works quite wonderfully by day;
Darkness must be grasped another way.
On you the moon, with muted, mirrored beams,
Now casts its lace of memories and dreams.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to reshape souls and roots and skies,
A time to give your heart to everyone
Freely, like a rich and lavish sun,
Like a burning star to those whose lonely sighs
Show need of such a time for love and fun.
For children first, whose pain is never done,
Whose bright white fire of anguish never dies,
It’s time to give your heart to every one,
That not one angel fall, to hatred won
For lack of ears to listen to her cries,
Or arms to carry him towards love and fun,
Or friends to care what happens on the run
To adult life, where joy or sadness lies.
It’s time to give your heart to everyone,
For God loves all, and turns His back on none,
Good or twisted, ignorant or wise.
Christmas is a time for love and fun,
A time to give your heart to everyone.
A line of cars - about nineteen,
had stopped behind me.
No obstacle was to be seen,
you ask ‘why should this line be’.
My trusty phone lets out a beep,
a sign of simple pleasures,
my heart performs a happy leap,
familiar with these treasures.
So, now you know, my little flower,
your magic does extend
with unrelenting innate power
through messages you send.
The next time when I hear beep - beeep
I’ll wear again a smile.
And if the line behind my Jeep
is longer than a mile,
so be it, I say, what’s your beef?
Perhaps these drivers could
send out their own texts, long or brief,
as definitely they should.
And come to think, I only felt
this happy on my birthdays,
reminds me of the time you yelled
‘I’ll talk to you on Thursday! ‘
So now the day of Thursday has
become my favourite day.
We need to keep this razzmatazz
have Thursday every day
they make me feel like no other band.
they give me ideas that constantly run through my head.
they make my life feel like so much more.
they make my songs ring out and soar.
they give me inspiration to stay strong.
they give me ideas to know if i am wrong.
they will always be my favorite band.
green day is it and i am glad.
For decades,
Nameless,
You strove toward the
Dead volcano,
And never got there.
Gentle Giants.
Silent Sisters.
Yawning clouds.
Voyaging with a stately grace
Across every sky for miles.
Curves the Guggenheim would die for.
And warm, inside, with
Countless years
Of contemplation folded
In your gaze.
“Taller than the pyramids!”
They said, but No-one,
Ever, thanked you,
For putting MORE clouds
Into a wet, winter sky.
A Crack.
A Sigh.
The earth shook,
And gathered you down.
Miles away
The Highway is calling.
