Beauty

. Moon Song Selene to Endymion Night, for ever, ever night. __Sleep as the Gods would sleep, __Beautiful boy; sleep; sleep; Rest ever in the cool night. I shall smile on you moon-bright, __Lay beside you and weep, __Weep. Gently shall I keep You young, lovely in the night. Shine...

. A life alone is at its center bare, A quiet conversation with myself, A single, threadbare suit I always wear, A volume set aside upon life's shelf. A time or two fate's hands would find me paired, Awakening to partnership each day. A coupled time where thoughts and deeds...

. The Spirit blazes in an upper room; A hundred twenty flames spout sparks to cast Christ’s wildfire on the earth, and make it bloom. The Magdalen, apostle unsurpassed, Conveys her fragrant nard to salve Provence, While Peter and Paul inspire an empire vast. New missioners serve far-flung nations’ wants:...

. My count of sheep was off as twilight fell And father’s friend, Ben Ezra’s lamb was gone! I had to find her! Searching past the well I climbed the rocks exhausted but pressed on. Delay could mean her life! She’d failed to heed My shepherd’s call and so risked...

. The State of Art The art world has completely turned around. Now critics blind themselves, or close their eyes, Shout how their contacts and their creds abound, And laud sick rancid leavings to the skies. Admiring excrement (which has been canned, Shown, sold, and showered with the highest praise)...

. My Texas Tempest Silver Lining  It’s said that during times of heightened pain Your world contracts. You’ll find it’s apt to shrink--- A small domain; no fuss, no stress, no strain--- A place for you to breathe with ease and think; A space for you to drift away and...

. Isolde and the Men of Stone Who could believe, except on ancient trust? The stones grew pliant, yielding into shape When softer nature touched them; human forms Emerged, as marble figures half-begun. —Ovid, Metamorphoses, I, 400-406 Her mind a buzzing hive, Isolde walks On gaping earth. An excavator’s teeth...

. The Phones with apologies to Edgar Allan Poe Phones, phones, phones, See the people with their phones, Silver, pink and paisley phones, On the subways and the buses and the sidewalks, all alone, Lost in intimate exchanges with their phones, phones, phones. Hear the murmuring of phones, In their...

. The Dove Returned The dove returned! The Earth is dry; A golden sun lights up the sky. This ark shall rest on land again Each creature freed from cage and pen, Each yearning bird released to fly! The old world’s gone. We’ll not decry God’s judgment though we’ll long...

. A portent for our loss, this bird, so nigh Its end. The slowly creeping dusk had dared It to emerge, its doughty spirit bared, Eyes bright as lightning in a sullen sky. The lesser creature never questions why It lives in constant fear nor why a bird Must needs...

. Unimaginable written in celebration of the 100th birthday on May 16th of the Poet's mother, Marjorie Tweedie, a resident of Walnut Creek, California I have a good imagination. In my mind’s eye, a spotted, black and white carnation’s As tangible as flaming neon-pink Dalmatians; Each one as clear and...

. My Paola’s love is constant as the sun That daily sheds its beams on hill and dale; No sooner set, it hastes again to run With steady pace, the same unswerving trail. When cold winds blow, the warmth of her embrace, Like sunlight, penetrates me to the core; Her...

. Apophis Apophis is the name of a near-earth asteroid that passed by our planet a few months ago, a name it shares with the Ancient Egyptian evil serpent god and one of the Hyksos pharaohs of Egypt. Apophis, demon-snake, Foe to truth and light, Coiled at the cusp of...

. The Bunyip’s Spell A native girl of spirit strong, As graceful as the flitting fishes; Went swimming in a billabong, Against her mother’s stated wishes. And though the water, murky grey, Embodied trouble in the making; To swim on that idyllic day Was deemed to be a risk worth...

. For a Friend Fighting Cancer And so it seems before the dawn that darkness reigns and hope is gone. I understand that is the way you feel. But dawn will come, and then bright sun. One day your struggle will be done. And you will be quite different when...

. A Sonnet for My Son On Mother’s Day, I simply have to say I’m humbled by my role and heartened too. The gift of you has paved a wondrous way To seeing life through stirring points of view. I’ve basked in scenes through eyes alive with joy--- Your toddler-take...

. At Matins’ hour, the middle of the night,I woke, and soon found I was not alone;A man who seemed past sixty to my sightThis sentence said, and sang it in good tone:O threefold God on the eternal throne,To be content and love Thee I have cause:My trifling youth is...

.For all my lifeI felt alone---Out on the road,As well as home. I saw couples With children near,Filled to the brimWith sweetness dear. But then it came,This life in me.I am “with child”---Now all can see. It’s in my walk,My softer voice,My warmer hand, My surer choice. I sleep so...

. Part II of the Coffee Trilogy. (Part I can be found here.) In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.    ---John 1:1 A light without a shadow could exist like a lonely star in lonelier space; a shadow though,...

. Today I spied you, red in beak and claw.You perched atop a roadside pole to dineOn scaly prey with silver skin, pecked raw—A mullet dish of thrashing flesh; a fineBeachside feast; a smorgasbord of sweetAnd briny meat with spiny, hairbreadth bones,All talon-torn by hunger bared and wild.I gazed upon...

. I asked the moon, "Do you feel all alone?" She said, "I have no time. I've lots to do. To all the stars, I am a chaperone. Tonight I'm in good company with you." I asked the moon, "Do you begrudge the sun?" She said, "my heart's devoid of...

. Six hundred years before Old Sarum fell, the might of Rome faced down the Gallic tribes on earthen ramparts between circles scribed, intent to bring rebellion to the quell. Caesar himself came out to face the Gauls but Vercingetorix had scorched the land and left the Legions without ground...

. One Fate Ecclesiastes 9:1-6 Shall I portend, and shall I explicate What eyes can see themselves, ere they go blind? The moral and sagacious of mankind Know not a whit what destinies await, For to the hand of God they are consigned. Who knows what fortune then shall arbitrate,...

. Prayer Of people who pray, Routinely or not, He wonders what the case is. Are they of belief Prayer has an effect, Or touching all the bases? . . Opinions in Fact Some folks voice opinions So matter-of-factly They seem to think everyone Reckons exactly. . . Decisions in...

. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5FdfL8sVRM Like Abelard and Heloise Like Abelard and Heloise This woman has the gorgeous mind. Her touch of tenderness and ease Calms the ravages I find. Her cheeks are one dear downy bed For my sore heart to rest upon, And the sultry words she said Vanish but are...

. Like a bell struck in the clear night, A voice that no one hears Tells me to leave my bed and write With ink distilled from tears. The stars exert their influence, The moon shines white on black, The planets weave a circle dance Around the zodiac. Bent under...

. The first soft days of Springtime greet my eyes __Like a young girl’s face smiling fresh and clean, The sunlight falls, like hope, from cloudless skies __Upon a budding world, all tender green; But sweet, sad odors drift upon the breeze, __That seem to carry my soul far away,...

. The Tale of Governor Do-as-I-Say-Not-as-I-Do-som It’s funny how Democracy In many states now colored blue Produces rank hypocrisy, A birthright of the privileged few. And there we notice Gavin Newsom Imbibing wine for all to see, Complicit in a maskless twosome Inside a swanky eatery. But this is urban...

. We’re poets first-and-foremost and agree that meter, rhyme and rhythm oft are spurned; the plethora of poetry we see is free verse and should frankly be returned to sender if an emo, teenage brain or lovesick chump composed the referenced work whilst classicists are grappling to regain elusive words...

.  Brush with Shame In reference to “Couple accidentally paints over $500,000 artwork,” Ben Cost, New York Post, 4/3/21 The whole world over they are in a stew: Our artists and creators share the view That “artwork” they create or else display Is “hands off”—there’s just nothing else to say....

. O Spring, you’re such a tease, Fickle as a good-time lover; Temptingly, you hover Warm against my cheek, Windless, save a zephyr; And oh so soft your whisper Of promise, only to hide Away again. I seek, Not to find. Your breeze Blows hot, then cold. Decide! . ....

. Martyred daughter of a libeled Czar, You for whom St. Basil’s bells have rung, Condemned to die dishonored and unsung, Yet gentlest of the Romanovs by far In silent black-and-white forever young. It seems your life was but a royal dream Of gold tiaras wrought by Cartier And gilded...

. Poet's Note: These poems are non-autobiographical. . When Love is Lost To see the summer sun and wish for rain; To smell the springtime flowers and wish for snow; To wake at dawn and wish for night again; To trade today for dreams of long ago. To grieve the...

. You meekly poke your purple heads Through stubborn clumps of snow That yet persist in fallow beds Though balmy breezes blow; First to hail the waxing sun, First to scent the air, First to paint the lifeless dun With a stroke of flair. So unassuming, small, and frail, Yet...

. Who took the years? Who stole the time away? Where did it go? I just don’t understand. There were so many things that I had planned, Such clever dialogue I had to say. Have I been written out of my own play? The years seemed plentiful as grains of...

. I wish I could build me a magic machine, A magic machine that would last, Till the octopus sings and the Orca grows wings, And the lowly worm ceases to cast. I’d fashion the walls out of wonder and trust, The floors out of paper-maché, The roof a fine...

. Horace, in your guide to painting poems, Bid a poet paint in synchrony. Carve, in sandy caves where writers roam, Ships ensconced in loam and birds at sea. Horace, sir, you broke me at hello. Genius, wit and art---tall cups to fill. Poet’s charge is flow, I know. I...

. Is poetry that’s free as free as all That?  Surely it’s the poet who is free Or not.  He makes the choice to make a sprawl Of words (and punctuation?) dribblingly Straight (straight?) along the right-hand margin, or Elects to wander from that side to God Knows where.  Then reeling like a...

. Though many scores were lost, those that remain May well be thought the richest heritage Ever bequeathed by one blessed human brain: Incomparable gems on every page, Now reverently passed from age to age, But when the ink was fresh how roughly tossed Aside as passé! And who now...

    . Dusk Till Dawn  The ocean rainAnd sleep played me—A willing pawn.I dreamt of youFrom nautical duskTill nautical dawn. . . Love Is More We shall be soul mates tillThey etch our names on stonesOr let our ashes flyFor love is more than justThin skin and brittle bones. ....