there is a poem on my wall
hand written thirty years ago
it isn’t faded, no not yet
everything you ever gave me
was more precious than you knew
I should have told you
but these words you wrote ring true
defining now the way we should have been
back then
perhaps the way we were
I was young
too insecure
it was all beyond me
the things we make
so often come too late
love
Day 13 ~ Beyond My Control
I regret
I stole your heart
As children steal a secret sweet
Or pluck an apple as they pass
It was not in my control
I regret
A look, a word
I saw you fall
I did nothing then to aid you
It was not in my control
I regret
I watched your sad attempts to woo
Accepted kisses
Never turned you quite away
It was not in my control
I regret
I let you think
That I might love you
In return for loving so
Now I regret
Freeing you from my control
(inspired by Le Liaisons Dangereuses)
Sad Roses
look at the roses
there is the vase
a symbol of passion
expensive perfection
force-grown under glass
and this is your gesture
of undying love?
a weed from the ditches
plucked
as you thought of me
out on your walk
would show me far more
weeds persist
weeds push through
when the growing gets tough
your love without loyalty
isn’t
enough
O
words are not enough
i could draw a line of dots
expanding into O’s
each one larger, broader, wider than the last
until they spread and shifted shape
into one gigantic throbbing heart
to embrace us in its grasp
The Bards Legacy
By the river the blossoms are falling,
Disarrayed by unseasonably storms,
And worn weathered gravestones outside the church
Are granite grey, cold, threatening forms
Sheltering ash of anonymous dead.
Under stained glass windows inside the church
The genius poet lays his sweet head.
Rosemary’s remembrance overcomes age.
Words unforgotten repeat his own tale.
Across the long years his thoughts pace the stage.
Ill fated fortunes are storms we must sail
and love can win through to make good amends.
Love overcomes all that savage time ends.
Leaving NY
I slept nine hours last night, she says,
I dreamed of you.
I asked if that was why she slept so long.
Only joking.
She laughs and say for sure it was.
Warm weather here.
Cold there.
Spring, how lovely.
Flowers and butterflies.
Yes.
I smile.
She always thinks of something pretty.
The taxi driver had a Brooklyn accent.
Like all the films, I think,
and remember Sophie’s Choice
Timbered houses, gables.
Tragic story.
Quick slices of happiness.
Madness.
Thinking of that I miss her next two sentences.
I come back to her.
Heavy luggage.
Last night was full of sirens and voices.
The Broadway shows cost a lot.
Traffic.
We’re leaving here soon, she says,
and I can’t wait to see you.
Everything is going to be so good.
Every word she says, is interspersed,
with saying how she loves me
and how she’s longing to be near me.
If Only
If we could, if we did,
If the time was right
If I understood all you said
If you had loved me more
If I had loved myself
If I had listened to you
If you had trusted me
If it had all been different
If only
If only the fates hadn’t conspired
and left us no choice and no power
we’d be somewhere else
not ourselves at all
and would that be better for us?
who can tell?
when I think of all that
it like hell
and no heaven in reach
only circles
they go round and round on themselves
If only
If wishes were horses we’d ride them
across the far planes
out to the wide shore
the landscape of all that’s possible
with no hill too high
like free birds we would rise up and sore
If only we could decide what’s best
If only – a phrase I despise
I’d rather live in the moment
and make an attempt to be wise
and learn from where we have been
Beauty
By the spinning of genes through the ages
no fate is ever the same.
Some receive beauty’s blessing.
I saw a boy at the bus stop
Oscar Wilde would have died for
that full sensual lip with a curve
and that nose, so defined,
and the girl with the sultry eyes
by the blue open door.
I was floored.
She’s the trace of a rose incarnate.
Where are such faces created?
Do angels fall down from above,
and are they gifted also with Love?
I think they’re not.
Far
Truly yourself you are.
You touch me,
so nearly there,
yet far.
Sun-splash
we crossed the bridge
grey river
hard pavement
heavy bags
traffic
you nudged against me
laughing
and there it was
the sun splash!
bare cafe
formica tables
coffee tastes good enough
food just doesn’t matter
people chatting
you smile at me
that little light
in your eyes
and there it is
sun splash!
it can rain
it can pour
the wind can howl
the town can fall about my ears
i feel your warmth
close, so near
i don’t quite reach to take your hand
but there it is
sun splash!
everywhere
sun splash!
The Dreaming Path 