On Losing

I touched on a feeling today,

a place when I am allowed to travel,

seems to step in my way,

let’s me slowly, carefully, unravel.


I remember the room, dark and sullen,

a tragedy can never appear with flowers,

I stood in the doorway …

the tears later would remind me of forevers.


the night before the phone rang,

I was in bed it was late, I went to sleep

It would be years to understand the pang

I felt that night was buried so deep.


So there my brother waited with quiet repose,

my mom a smile I knew, didn’t mean it was real,

he couldn’t look at me just in shock I suppose,

until her words unleashed a fury so surreal.


A shrieking ‘no’ is all I remember then

until I found I was in my bedroom crying,

I didn’t care about time passing when

my brother stepped in to talk about dying.


I suppose I’ve never understood the point of grief

if when my world turns upside down,

I lose my favorite soul, his life so very brief,

and yet, my uncle would still act the clown.


How do you possibly ever cheer up the dead

when the reality of our lives turns acrid pain,

what might we all decide we could be led,

while love remains a spirited truth we wane.


I was twelve years old, and he was the same,

yet he took off early left me holding the game.

The Aftermath


A leaf is a departure from its security, falling

until its resting place is a blend,

though no one may recall that original cling

for now there is a beauty in its rend.


For we are in that simple dose of humanity,

a piece of you and me and each one

encounters a similar responsive society

all visible in nature so clearly won.


So she or he or little does it matter whom

contributes to the  mosaic is  our blend

we derive a certain release from the womb

only trust with each other we depend.


Glance upon a skyward beauty sweet Grace

In each other’s arms we may certain embrace.


photo credit: deviant art

A Wandering Stillness

When alone, a quiet expanse
you can feel the room, the texture, the atmospheric tone,
yet everything is silent,

though the mind is working overtime,
wandering through the various channels of madness,
the ability to lose one’s mind is prevalent
inside a silent storm.

When then we return to the physical reality,
furniture placed evenly,
bookshelves dusty with seeming importance,
a picture to remind ourselves we’re not really

Quiet still would be the hope, the wish, the screaming
exercise in restoring sanity
while the mind relentless reminds
there are places we could go, should go, cannot go

The hours continue their slow count to indicate
lack of time, lack of opportunity to fix, to reach, to go inside
the prevail, high winds and find refuge in the quiet,
inside the eye, in that place we might probably call the soul.

Sitting soft in the afternoon solemn, wandering mind.

Facing Demons

Walk the earth in quiet solitude, there are voices,

those that speak to existence,

a near presence suggests a listening anticipation,

our lives at the bequest of their provision.


When looking upon a man whose soul is shadowed

in a melancholy framework,

a safe existence where no one may interfere,

thus the demon perhaps is never exposed.


Then glance upon her, scrambling for evidence

a reason to exist, a purpose, a motive,

yet beaten down on every avenue of hope or faith,

we see the demon is lurking in a cowardice of vanity.


Last night she spoke of the effort to rise,

when trampled upon by callous external motive,

we all cry out loud if we hurt, the demon sees,

instead she might weep in a well covered mask.


We do have these spiritual meccas we call our home,

worship the very ground we stand upon,

holding court with their eyes red embers

that can be extinguished yet a breeze is always near.


Oh, to know clearly how to come to face that fearful entity

one separates the strong from the weak, an eternal paucity.

Lunch With A Friend

We wrapped up the year together, my friend and I, with an annual breakfast we have shared with one another for nearly 40 years. We are evidently getting older, because we can indeed add another decade to our memory. This friend and I talk about everything from our families, to personal harmony, to world peace that eventually today turned to the state of our society after such a mind-altering election season. We one day years ago argued Kennedy and Bush on Pike’s Peak in Colorado Springs, that summer afternoon cementing our desire to share each other’s ideals without hesitation.

We both agreed that most of America could together recognize very few of us were happy with the mechanization of this historic political season. When that thought popped into my mind, I was suddenly struck with an idea. 

If we can all agree, maybe that is the start that we need. Is that really the key toward moving from divisive to unified in our society? As I begin to explore this idea, I want to be clear and indicate I will provide no singular individual any credit for making this happen. To be sure, that has to happen amongst ourselves and what better time to start thinking in that realm, than closing a year and beginning anew with promise and resolution.

We complain to one another in the privacy of our homes about the state of things in our society, the racial disparity, the ignorance, the hostility, the discrimination, and yet, we all go out the door to our daily lives forgetful of that stance until later in the safety of our home we can revisit the angst. Perhaps there in lies the opportunity to act.

I think I will choose to go forward in the hope that my actions will create a natural course of response from those around me to recognize the positive nature of being an open-minded contributor to the influences around me. In order to carry out that philosophy I do have realities I must pay attention to. That is, the prospect of raising awareness amongst my peer, my friends and family, colleagues, the people I interact with in passing, can only be as measured as my own ability to respect the opportunity for everyone to feel what they do, without my stepping in to change their thinking.

Perhaps that possibility of a happiness can be found in simple love. I recently told a dear friend of mine that the concept of love covers a lot of ground, and I don’t know if I was really sure what I was trying to say, but today as I write about my end of the year testimonial, I have a glimmer of hope that tells me that love is something we all want, and we need.

So we begin the new year, with a lovely snow outside our window that we can only choose to appreciate or rue. I will choose the former because I love the soft beauty of nature in its ability to give me pause and appreciate the sheer mystique of the world around me. I’ll use that as my peace of mind to enter the holiday season with a smile, and a hope to better the lives of the people around me simply by focusing on what I might give to their world rather than take away.

Yet, I’ll walk with caution, because I know clearly that having a mindset of take can be a very lonely place to be, and I wish only connection with everyone to all of those around us, stranger and friend, family or foe. Perhaps we might imagine a peaceful sunrise to help set the tone on the days ahead. We are in the holiday season, and the notion of give could take precedent. Together my friend and I do look forward to that possibility.

The Darker Side of Poignant

It is when you see it happen, yet further away,

not quite close enough to impact a daily life,

yet for some,

every aspect of departure is a solemn reminder.


How close came the shadow of doubt,

when callous minders

shout out loud, distract the envy, suggest

we might not recall your soul.


The action begins to take shape,

the fantasy, the planning, the convinced

shadow that lurking gives credence

to a destiny we have all feared ourselves.


A silent residue of a shallow reminder

holds close the bargaining chip,

a smile allows a facade we rely upon

so that others simply won’t know.


For in the end, those that do, those that can

remain poignant only inside a solo fantasy.

On The Precipice

There waves before me a magical kingdom,

a watery surface beckons the internal mystique

oh how easily,

the cold water might envelop my own real


soon to be adrift with the sea,

when consciousness is lost,

no longer will be the fear of a scrutiny,

simple silence,

a quiet sleep,

we all wonder about the outcome,

and yet,

when we rest without effort,

there are no dreams, a lacking spiritual reckoning,

only the deep of a blue satin sheen,

the original attraction.