Silent Sonata

This poem was written 16 years ago for my book "Love Bites". It was all about the emotions of losing a step-daughter in a divorce.

Silent Sonata

Once a father, I loved
to hear my daughter
hate me. At four there
is no difference.

To know she's gone
brings a tear. Stains on
my carpet are all that
is left of her history.

Her disappearance is
no mystery. She is
away with her mother
all safe and sound.

To my sorrow I
am not around. Maybe
today I'll go to the
park and cry. Maybe I'll
just tell the swingsets good-bye.

PRIVATE ARCHITECTURE

Sticking to your core values can leave one in lonely place.

PRIVATE ARCHITECTURE


Sitting alone in
a room without walls,
the ceiling supported by
pillars of difference.

The room allows
in the rain but
forbids the sunlight.

I can see
the world outside but
there are no doors
to allow entrance.

Kindred Reality

 To me poetry serves to bring together people, ideas, and souls in a deep, spiritual way that defies definition. Limitations are practical. difficulties probable, but realities are substantial.


Kindred Reality


Seldom together but
never apart. Souls
united by a poetry
of uninterrupted prayer.

Recognition of a personal
and private communication
with a creator who always
creates a divine communion.

So precious the recognition
of this celestial gift that
the transcendence of
the spiritual remains unadulterated.

Stroke Of Luck

Medication is not always the only means of prevention. Often times, all that is required is recognition.

Stroke Of Luck

Blood pressure rising,
vessels pulsating
for a midnight
date.

The consequences
of this secret
rendezvous are
permanent and

debilitating.Emotions
must be regulated
to avoid disruption.

Regulated Chances

Everyone believes in a plan. Even "no plan"  is a  plan to do nothing. The same logic can be applied to all belief systems or religions.


Regulated Chances


The most beautiful
dance has every step
choreographed to show
every minute nuance.

Lots are cast in
life to give the
illusion of random
chance. Variety is

a mirage put forth
by unbelievers to
stifle curiosity. No
accidents of faith.

STATE OF GRACE

This poem comes from my second book, "Love Bites" It's probably my favorite poem of the book. The central theme is to question who is responsible for one's actions


STATE OF GRACE

As I walk
through the garden,
forbidden fruit
cries for my touch.

The temptation
is overpowering
at times.

Whose responsibility
is it to stand
guard--the fruit's,
the serpent's or mine?

WORD TRANSFUSIONS

This poem came from my first book, "Behind The Veil ". Remember my philosophy of no accidents. And like they say, "It is what it is".

WORD TRANSFUSIONS

The blood flowing
from my wounds
changes colors depending
on the pen I
choose to use.

Always,
I wonder
where the words
come from.

Did they come from
creative cosmos
or my battered brain?
I guess it really
doesn't matter.