“I look into your eyes and see the universe not yet born” –Rumi
Drink in the sanguine hush
and seek out the lushness of life,
that has been there all along
beyond all whims and aspirations
it lies in waiting with zealous eyes
wishing to awaken us by the sheer weight of its stare
hoping to be the catalyst of our rediscovery
time is not at all contrite in its
eagerness to erase
all memory of us
but, in truth, time can be beaten
squarely at its own game.
We took the redline to Lawrence
and checked the world at the door
in the footsteps of all those before
who found solace in sax and
draped themselves in neon dreams
I must confess
how easily I acquiesced
to the Gresik groove
as broad shoulders unloaded
some say this swing-style’s outmoded.
It don’t mean a thing
Brother, I felt the pulse
The heart’s still tickin’
after all these years
And I’m the first to say
That I’m blown away
If relics we are, I accept it
This hurried world, I reject it
As I go back in my mind
to a simpler time
learn a new step and perfect it.
Fingers stained purple
vanilla’s essence fills the air
small bubbles effervesce
as you cure to a rich mocha
buckwheat blueberry pancakes
crowned with a dollop of whipped cream
dusted with cinnamon and paired
with a cup of strong dark roast
filling the hollows of a cold morning hunger
warming the soul if ever so transiently and
properly dispelling the depths of midwinter’s darkness.
a finite succession
moments in time
are all that we
really have here
choices allow us
to shape each of them before
they are frozen in form
In this moment
I choose to be grateful,
happy and to be kind to you
I will never understand
your struggles and
mine you can never know
not hallow kindness
born of pity
from some bleeding heart
but honest kindness
that comes from a place
of solemn respect
for a fellow traveler
whose twisted path
will eventually lead
them to the fringe
of very same Truth.
Here at the glint
of my dream’s unfolding
Placing the final pieces so deliberately
As this time I want to
experience the full crescendo
And savor the fruits of my labor
With those whom I love.
Life thus far has been magnificent
the greatest of fears, slain
Wisdom gleaned from
attuning to the hush of nothingness,
a Peace of stillness near
to me it has been proven many a time
That this Universe is a place
of both infinite miracles and tough love
ever ready to take us into its arms
and guide us, dutifully like a child
through the audacity of our sorrows
to stand reborn
in the untouched light of a new day
This year I have learned
not to despair
for not getting everything
But to rejoice in the fact that I’m
receiving exactly what
I remember watching SNL as a child in the seventies. It was cutting edge, current. Now, when I have enough courage to tune in, I wince every since time at how bad it is. For the sake of nostalgia, I’ll watch ten, maybe fifteen minutes longer than I’d want to but it never gets better.
I have two weeks until I have to start the rewrite of my novel after the editing is done. In the next two weeks I’m going to draft a few skits to send into the show. Probably a couple times per month my wife and I are driving along in the car or going for a walk and something sparks an idea for a spoof of a commercial or some other humorous skit. Believe me, the world provides plenty of material for this.
Just on our walk around the neighborhood lake alone we’ve come to know a cast of characters who entertain us every night. Just a small sampling of the cast of characters is as follows:
1. The Angry Jogger. A man who appears to be in his fifties and is wound way too tight. He has literally cursed me out, without ever turning around, for not getting out of this way;
2. The Poop Patrol. An elderly gentleman who rides his bike around the lake, keeping a watchful eye to make sure dog walkers pick up after their animals. If, God forbid, he sees a spare turd and you happen to have a bag in your hand he will ask you to pick up said turd. He’s done this to us.; and
3. The Monkey Man. A man who walks around the lake with a real live monkey on his shoulder (I’m serious). The man gets his hair cut to mimic the monkey’s hair (again, I’m serious), a close cropped flat top. Real Twilight Zone stuff here folks.
This will be a fun project. If nothing else, we can use the material for another project at a later date.
Up until now
it’s all been empty fiction
can we afford to squander?
lingering in the midst of every nuance.
if only, if only
giving until there’s nothing left
to hold on to,
nothing but total blue
we must struggle with a world
where the deepest of feelings
until we can look into each other’s eyes
with no regrets.
This is a collection of poetry that I wrote for a children’s book years ago. I partnered with a great illustrator, Linda Pigman who created the pen and ink illustrations.
The book will be similar in format to Shel Silverstein’s, “Where the Sidewalk Ends”. Each poem contains a kernel of a childhood memory. I am currently seeking a publisher for this book. If you know of anyone who may be interested please let me know, the art is done as well.
The Mean Lady On The Porch
She’s so old and mean, she sits and stares
watching us with her icy glare
Is she mad at us for bouncing a ball
Or is it because we’re four feet tall?
Does she frown at us girls and boys
‘cause we make far too much noise?
Sean says she’s just plain mean and so does Matt
They said if she smiled, her face would crack!
Tanya told the story and Chris approved
Of how the lady once had her smiler removed!
This all seemed so silly, I thought to myself
As I put the ball back on the shelf
There was a flower in the yard
I picked it, sighed and swallowed hard
And walked up to her, saying with a smile
Hi, I’ve lived next door for quite a while
I’m glad I’m your neighbor and just want to say hi
then a tear streamed down from her eye
After we talked a while I saw she wasn’t mean
Sometimes people aren’t what they seem!
Red Rubber Ball
How I wish I could be a red rubber ball
Ben could bounce me, then I’d be tall!
Curt could kick me and have lots of fun
I’d roll along faster than people could run!
Brooke would dribble me ‘til I got dizzy
During recess is when I would be busy!
It all sounds like more fun than one boy can take
Besides, a red rubber ball can’t eat chocolate cake!
Tucked away where no one can find it, it’s our own space
my playground, your playground, our own special place.
Grown-ups can’t find it ‘cause they’ve forgotten the way
Most of them think work’s more important than play
Me, I’ll keep coming here to slide down the slide
Whoosh we race down as we giggle inside
My stomach gets queasy as we teeter and totter
If I could only explain to my mother and father
How much fun can be had on one simple swing
It sparks my mind to imagine incredible things
While climbing on top of the huge monkey bars
I pretend I’m a spaceship floating high in the stars
Let’s never forget the way to our own special places
that once painted bright smiles on our tiny faces.
Wake Up Juice
Six o’clock in the morning is way too early
I’d rather sleep one more hour and have to hurry
My eyelids are droopy, the world is all fuzzy
The sun isn’t even up but the alarm clock’s buzzing!
I’d be loose as a moose, or is it a goose?
If I could just have one sip of wake up juice
The dark brown juice that fills dad’s cup,
Its aroma fills the air as the steam floats up
It wakes dad up fast and makes him alert
But he says I can’t have it cause I’m just a squirt.
The First Snowflake
The sun hangs high in the morning sky
In the cooling air the first snowflake flies
It flutters down for all to see
and gets lost among the fallen leaves
it’s not long before his friends arrive
more tiny flakes from Autumn skies
like diamonds shining pure and bright
they glitter in the morning light
the air grows brutally frigid as North winds blow
and the leaves get lost beneath the snow
if all is well and all is right
and this continues through the night
we’ll dash for the door, mittens in hand
to begin this Winter’s first SNOWMAN!
When I’m feeling down, in need of a hug
When the world has no sympathy, he’s never smug
I just call his name and he’ll be right there
he’s much hipper than some stuffed bear!
He doesn’t like bananas or swinging from trees
Brussels sprouts, gingerbread, spiders or fleas
Just put on some music and watch him get funky
He’s the one and only snuggle monkey
He’ll break into song whenever he pleases
And likes to say, “Bless you” when anyone sneezes
He never makes a mess, or gets me in trouble
I’m so very glad I have a monkey to snuggle!
A Fat Cat For A Hat
As Tammy lay down to go to sleep
She cracked her book, sipped her tea
And smiled as she looked at me
She had a fat cat for a hat
You see, after she lay down in her bed
a fat cat wrapped himself around her head
and got himself warm while she read
She had a fat cat for a hat!
her auburn hair was nice and soft
as he snuggled in and drifted off
on the nightstand her book was tossed
she fell asleep with a fat cat for a hat!
There’s a wonderful place with rooms to roam
thirty-two to be exact and each feels like home
it’s the Bookloft, nestled in the Village
Be careful, for if you lose your way
You may wander lost for many days
and read about everything from pies to plays
in the Bookloft, nestled in the Village
Follow red brick streets and you’ll be there
have the courage to go where not many dare
Start the journey of knowledge and lose your cares
in the Bookloft, nestled in the Village.
Shy sly was so shy
that he would close his eyes
whenever he saw a stranger
but shy Sly, the poor guy
feel into a hole, why?
he never did see the danger.
Edgar’s Bike Shop
Whether it’s a big red bicycle with a old rusty chain
Or a small tricycle that clickity-clacks like a train
Before you give up and throw it away,
ask Edgar to fix it, he does everyday
Ask any kid on the block and they’ll tell you the way
there’s no sign out front and he’s not open everyday
If you’re lucky Edgar will be in his garage with jumpsuit and wrench
Leaning over a bent up old bike clamped to a green wooden bench
There’s no wheel that’s too crooked or flat tire he can’t seal
If he’s in a good mood you’ll get a great deal
handlebars will be fixed for a few jellybeans
chocolate bars will get you miraculous things
most days he’s quiet grumpy to tell you the truth
but his mood is improved right through his sweet tooth.
The Barber’s Secret
Barbers now for many years,
instead of cutting hair, have lowered ears
once you’d see a pile of hair on the floor
but no you won’t see that anymore
they’ll tap the end of your ear with a comb
quietly mumble their magic barber’s poem
and quickly each ear slides down an inch
so fast it makes fooling you a cinch
Barbers now for many years,
Instead of cutting hair, have lowered ears