Wisdom of Rain

This morning before dawn

I listened to a conversation

Of the rain that said to me,

No matter what you people do

In what ever name you know me by,

How ever many die in that name,

The sound of rain falling

From this laurel tree will not change.
　
　
　

The Poet/ for Pablo Neruda

Making love with words
Bread for the soul flows
From pockets of love
A river of stars in the sky
Earthly bodies could do no justice
To the way every syllable caresses
Pulses through the senses

The moon of your mouth
Spills silver throughout
This small universe
One knows without knowing
Senses without feeling
The deepest river of all
Courses through the canyons
Of life's essence..

The Alchemist

　
If on a winter’s night

I came upon you

Lying in the snow

Heart turned to stone.

I’d take you to my breast

Brush snow

From the brow

Creased by care

Kiss your mouth

Ignite the fire melt

Your frozen heart

To beat in synchrony

With mine.

Reflections

As you age
You reach a place
Where you begin to see
Your parents in your face.
As your children age
If you are so fortunate,
You begin to see,
Your own face in their’s.

Round and round
The mirror goes,
Telling the story of generations,
Past and present
No true death will come.
One sows his own memory
Growing beyond tomorrow.

Appetizers

Rhode Island’s pride,
Flame feathered beauties
With no thought of fate,
Strut the farmyard runway
Plump, ample breasts
On proud display.
Enough to make one salivate
For a Sunday feast of
Buttery biscuits en fricassee
On a plain and lowly Thursday.

Ben Franklin's Demise

The old five and ten,
Once all could be had
For a nickel or a dime.
Today I drove by
The place where
I used to while away time
After the Saturday matinee.
I was shocked to see a heap
Of wooden bones, remainder
Of my rites of passage.

Once I walked
The creaking floors,
Smelled the dust in the air,
Searched through rough
Wooden bins full of dreams.
Went with my mother for
An embarrassing fitting
Of a long awaited bra.
Carefully selected a first lipstick,
Clutching a quarter,
Dogwood Pink or Kiss Me Coral?
My sisters and I chose
The perfect gift set of
Evening in Paris for our Mom.

The grand old place
Now lies in pieces,
Gabled roof top,
Garret to the side,
High, tooled tin ceiling,
Double doors, worn shiny knobs
Display windows that once held
A sundress I yearned for,
And gazed longingly at
A life sized baby doll I coveted,
Now all joined
In a pile of the past.

Reaching Out

I don't visit the cemetary often.
This is only the second time
since the funeral.
It's peaceful there, surrounded
by a forest. As I walked
the row of tombstones,I noticed
Someone standing there,
in the twilight. Coming closer,
I saw it was myself.

She looked so scared and lonely.
I felt compelled to stay and talk.
She said that she had been hiding
behind another identity for over thirty
years and now it had been
stripped away. She is beginning
to realize she isn't much different
than she had been before,
that the flaws in her
character still exist. This frightens her.
She knows that she once made
decisions not always in her best
interest.This unhappy woman knows
she relied on the protection that
being part of a stable couple
had offered her. Now, she finds
herself solely responsible
for the direction of her life.

Seeing myself this way made me
realize, I am so much stronger
than she. I am able to use
what I have learned these years
to my advantage, rise above
the needs that once powered
foolish choices.

So I took her in my arms as if
she were my daughter, assured
her that I would stay with her
and together we prayed over
our lover's grave.