Juicy

No time
like the present
nor better reason
than passion

limitations
must be broken
creativity
given her wings

fruit will come
with preparation
care
and persistence

the seeker
and the hungry
can always use
another gardener

scatter the seed
and let whosoever will
enjoy simple pleasures
some may overlook

this is not about you
not about them
has little to do with pride
only that one has tried

dare to chance
flirt with rebuke
face to the sun
hand to the plough

it's about time
and in the end
let the body be burned
and the music live on

strike while the iron glows
and the dragon of doubt sleeps
go to now ye poet son
go deep

go deep

18December2006

I'm Awake!

silly girl sees snow on a summer's day
crazy boy laughs along
she tastes with her tongue
he smiles through his eyes

breeze blows along a lazy river
fish fight over a fly
old man moves minutely
looking for just the right angle

dead man dawdles at his grave
waiting to see who comes
picks a dandelion
from where a neighbor lies

I'm awake!
I can't sleep
I'm awake!
I can see

cars collide and leave the road
finally going somewhere
seeing the unseen
embracing the chaos

flower blooms on cue
every move an opera
every color a prism
even if no one cares

soul leaves bone
says goodbye
as if in a hurry
and finally returns

I'm awake!
I can't sleep
I'm awake!
I can see

I swear...

October 28, 2005

Evergreen

evergreen
you and me
falling leaves
finally free
letting go
to and fro
getting low
heaven knows
funny thing
spine tingles
sparrows sing
pumpkin grins
purple cloud
oh, so proud
this old town
sound so loud
orange sun
colors run
never done
maybe some
so my dear
all the years
no fear
be here

October 23, 2005

Long Shadows

long shadows of the morning grow small
moving left to right
yesterday's sun surrounds you now
never been so bright

every time you turn around
your past goes flyin' by
simple shipwreck on the horizon
broken bottle floats away

thick smoke on a distant mountain top
a language you don't speak
forgotten notes in a wooden box
no one wants to keep

colours in the sky tell it all
silence growing louder
darkened room tilts to the south
earth spins slightly slower

embracing all the risk you've known
a careful man takes a chance
every heavy wall stands down
and then it all makes sense

deep hole holds what the clouds discard
a grave for summer's rain
just wasting time at a funeral for a friend
even though no one came

two lovers run, then fall to the sand
hot and wringing sweat
smile and remember every kiss
then stuggle to forget

October 6, 2005

If I'm lucky, maybe there's a song in there somewhere.

Not Forever

your image shrinks
backlit, busy and focused

moving forward
back turned

not leaving us behind
but not staying

go on
find your way

no surprise
years turn into seconds

embraces turn familiar faces
into rivers of tears

such a small bag
holds everything

go now, march uphill
I'll be on my way down

suddenly walking in opposite directions
I still can't help but smile

gone
but not forever

until then, leaves will fall
and snow may come

footprints once again
pointing towards home



September 28, 2005

Things I See

pretty random, but fun

Ladders creak in the distance as trees bow to the earth
Purple echoes run through a choking mist
Seven stars leave no trace at the scene; tracks covered with moon dust disappear

Zues is all alone in a room too large for most mortals
Hermes runs by with an urgent message; never delivered
“Nail it to the nearest Church door,” Luther says as he is crucified

A second hand from a clock that never worked lives near me
In a refrigerator box on the wrong side of the tracks where no train has ever run
Rushing to smoke the last bit of a cheap cigar before anyone else notices that it’s not lit

One white calla lily grows in a garden of hope and wonders why the sky isn’t blue
Children on red tricycles pedal across an ocean of pine needles
A single bicycle bell is heard a thousand miles away as a soldier sleeps in a truck moving slowly

Spiders leave their webs to play poker with an Old Maid deck missing three cards
A forward thinking irishman googles the word “triumphant,” sifts through 1,745 results, shaking his head in disbelief
“See that thick black wire?” hums a naked bird too lazy to find a living tree “it has the answers”

Lovers sit in a theater, two rows from the back, as a magician pulls a model of human DNA from the flowered hat of an older woman in the front row
Three dead rabbits are found in a dark apartment in south Philly two minutes after midnight on the 23rd
A dove ponders existentialism three seconds before being sucked into the left engine of a fifty year old pilot’s private plane

All the while, a computer monitor fills up with black and white symbols that no one can understand
A hole waits to be dug by a brilliant scientist trying to find the right combination
And an old lady sits on a porch swing crocheting a pair of pink or blue baby booties because that’s all she knows how to make

Three hundred thousand ants have never met their queen, but never stop working
An unsuccessful jewel thief runs away with the wrong pie cooling in the window
And an old marionette asks his God "What does it all mean?"

August 20, 2005

The Parade

not perfect, but not bad for a day...

We drove miles
to entertain America,
The real one
not the one on TV

Fire trucks so loud
with nowhere to go
but two miles up the road
as children cheer

People holding clipboards
scramble to make it make sense
The most important person in town today
is the lady who usually does your hair

Clowns, queens, kings
all take a ride in the best seat in the house
and wave that wave
and they all wave back

Some shout familiar greetings
as their temporarily famous neighbors pass

"Betsy Ross" goes by
flying gently in the summer breeze
and an eighty-five year old man salutes
through a sixty-five year old tear

This is the real America
little boys banging air
as the drummers go by
This is where we live

This is my America
Little girls wave excitedly
to the "bean queen"
This is where I live

Big men in little cars
Tractors so shiny
Children picking up candy
from fake politicians and true civil servants

But today is not about them

It's about you
and me
and the baby in the stoller
sleeping through Ronald McDonald

A heavily tattooed father
wearing a John Deere cap
raises his son to his shoulders just so he can see
a '69 Mustang with the top down

"that's when muscle cars ruled" he says

Uncle Sam walks by
He looks much shorter than I thought
but I wave anyway
as he points his famous finger my direction

Then a jeep rolls by
carrying two WWII veterans
and I secretly wonder
what kind of hell they've lived through

What kind of sacrifice they've made
to allow my children to walk
through every red light in town
as America waves and cheers

A concrete truck that looks like it was just washed
(likely the only time this year)
rolls noisily down another job well done
humming a low tune as the barrel turns

A policeman walks with "Shadow"
who can smell drugs a mile away
but right now is more interested
in a two year old's tootsie roll

a group of 'Nam vets
yell loudly as they march in time
and I remember
when they did not hear cheers

Why are 20 dogs in this parade?
and what exactly is "tailwaggers" anyway?
But I can't help but smile
as the St. Bernard drags the lady the whole way

And could someone explain
why a unicycle has to be made more difficult
by raising it 12 feet
from the earth...

A non-descript man with a shovel
walks behind the Clydesdales as people applaud
and I think "a bad day shoveling at a parade...
is still a pretty good day"

And finally ninety year old "Sam" rolls by
in a sweet new convertible
"Our Town's Citizen of the Year"
an award likely given just in time

This parade is not perfect
No, not by a longshot
But for one morning
our greatest concern is not Iraq, Saddam or WMD

or any other divisive word or acronym

Today we only need to know
how much longer until the marching band?
what temperature is the water at the beach?
and what's for lunch?

In the door of a storefront
sits one old lady in a wheelchair holding an american flag
she is wrapped in a blanket on an eighty degree day
but she's here, with America

Who am I kidding, she IS America

Just like you
Just like me

Everyone loves a parade...

July 3, 2005

What's in a Number?

about as random as it gets for me...

3
inhale
breathe
diaphragm
hold
exhale
score and ten

24
air
sky
sun
warmth
comfort
hours

365
breeze
bird
trees
whisper
soft
days

1,000,000
earth
cool
dew
natural
past
miles

60
click
electricity
delay
open
smile
seconds

42
distance
missing
phone
substitute
enough
age

1
pain
joy
all
worthy
precious
life

July 2, 2005

Melancholy Times

they come and, hopefully, they go

never on schedule
yet they come
these melancholy times
along with haunting rhymes

like water runs

swaying north and south
to and fro
a rusted back porch swing
two birds begin to sing

songs they know

shouting from the street
brings me back
from memories divine
if only in my mind

thoughts off track

not the only one
(this I know)
to never feel quite sane
to want to quit this game

overflow

all of this will pass
given time
laughter will rule again
please help me smile 'till then

I'll be fine

June 29, 2005

Learning

I am learning
I think
about this life
and what it means

I am winning
I hope
in the struggle between pride
and humility

I am optimistic
I try
to see the best in people
before noticing the bad

I am happy
I smile
at the most amazing
people and things

I am sad
I cry
without shedding a tear
or so I think

June 28, 2005

Everybody Gets a Turn

We all stand in line
waiting for our chance
to manifest our humanity
in so many different ways

Step right up...

Everyone gets a turn
to laugh
cry
live
die

We all take a spin
on the mistake machine
ride the wave of love
and drive each other crazy

Line forms to the left please...

In time we do it all at least once
those of us who are lucky
lucky enough to dare
brave enough to try

Sadly there are some who only watch
unwilling to hear the "click, click click"
of the roller coaster ride
that is this life

No one rides without a ticket...

Everyone takes a chance
some are dealt pain
others joy
but each are alive in their own way

Stay behind yellow line...

Eventually, life and age
have their way with us all
we pay the piper
and do the time

and if we're lucky
we get three score and ten
and if we're lucky
everybody gets a turn

oh, and one more thing...

Keep hands and feet inside until ride comes to a complete stop...

June 22, 2005

To Life

dedicated to those who have been to the edge... and lived to tell about it

It wasn't a cry for help
more of a whisper of futility
that led you to that ledge
all alone in the cool evening wind

been so long since you heard the quiet
since your breath registered in your ears
and your heart made an audible sound
as it beat within your heaving chest

"this is life" you think
as the wind comes blowing against you like a familiar friend
reminding you of clouds and oceans
of a past so long ago forgotten

a conflicted tear pushes to the rim
of a downward looking eye
slides to the end of a lash
and falls

twelve seconds later
a splash
unnoticed by those below
but clearly felt at this height

and for reasons that you don't fully grasp
you step back off the ledge
realizing that jumping or staying
may not fix anything

but as you come down from the edge
and come in out of the wind
only one thought echoes in you wearied mind
"this is life"

you've been to the edge
and back...

to life

June 21, 2005

Thunder & Lightning

dedicated to those who feel lost

wind whistles, a train blows
against the silence of this height
pregnant screech with a honk
but no hit

thunder with no lightning

the pigeon lectures
as the preacher walk past below
planning to save the world
while one lost soul looks down on him

stomach churns
knuckles crack
saline eyes close, then open
air flees condemned lungs

mind, once full, empties for the last time
switch flips somewhere
deep in the subconscious
no going back this time

moon disappears behind a dark cloud
star waves as it falls to the distant horizon
slow lean
pregnant descent with a scream, and a hit

thunder and lightning

June 20, 2005

One at a Time

dedicated to people who have no idea what to write or say, who to love or hold, or even who they are or want to be...

He started to type that "he started to type"
just to have something on the page
In time, the words came
and ideas crept in

one line at a time

Was it a love sonet?
would he write about some imagined woman?
or why he feels so alone without her
or how her skin feels against the fingers of his mind?

one heartbeat at a time

Could it be rage that stains the page
frustration flowing freely into form
"Why does this life have to be
so completely frustrating for me?"

one desperate scream at a time

She's been gone forever it seems
surely he could put the feeling into words
does a dictionary contain the pain
of someone ripping half of you to pieces

one tear at a time

he calms the death grip on the pen
relaxes the muscles in his hand
reaches for the familiar bottle
lifts it to his lips.... then stops

one day at a time

the writing helps dispel the images
of the better days long gone
he curses and swears "never again!"
as each one flashes on the screen inside his mind

one memory at a time

as he lays his pen to the desk
he sits up straight and reads
somewhat satisfied that he knows what he means
yet still has no idea of what he really needs

one poem at a time

slowly he shuffles to the window
and waits patiently for the rain to ruin another perfect view
and whispers to no one there...

one at a time...

June 15, 2005

The Sound of Friday Night

3:59am
she noticed officer Walsh look at her partner across the front seat
they spoke a few words which were too quiet to hear
she counted the seconds between wiper passes
it was raining now

she looked in the rearview mirror and saw a look in Officer Walsh's eyes that seemed to say, "it's going to be alright"

3:39am
she was awakened by a woman with a gun and a badge
there was another, a man, close by
she said softly "my name is officer Walsh"
"we need you to help us answer a few questions"

she noticed that the her badge number was 71792... Tracy's birthday

1:25am
as the tears finally came, she laid next to the stonethe grass was wet and the dirt stuck to her faceshe said "I love you Tracy" over and over"it's gonna be ok now, I promise, I promise..."

she didn't mean to fall asleep

1:05am
17 blocks... she had never counted them before
from the place she lived to the place her sister slept
the cold shiny stone spoke her name to any who would listen
"Tracy Leigh Cullen, 1992-2003"

she suddenly remembered that her sister's initials were TLC and smiled weakly

12:27am
she walked down the stairs, instead of taking the elevator
each step echoing in time with the heart beat in her head
as she reached the street, the ambulance pulled up
and two paramedics, a man and a woman, ran by

they didn't see the sad girl walking by

12:14am
she sat down on the table next to them for a moment
and every dark memory ran through her mind
as if fleeing finally after being trapped for years
finally able to breathe, finally able to see

she didn't hear the sirens in the distance

12:13am
her mother sat in the blood, unable to move or speak
they exchanged glances, but only for a moment
this was one of those moments when the lines between good and evil
sometimes were hard to distinguish

she didn't see the tear in her mother's eye roll down a bruised cheek

12:12am
"c'mon now you crazy... what do you think........."
then incredible sound....... then nothing
she walked over and noticed the blood draining from the hole in his chest
into the cracks in the hardwood floor

she didn't feel any remorse....... at all

12:11am
he said "put down that thing"
"you're gonna do something you regret"
she thought "the only thing going down tonight is you"
"and all that you've done, I intend to never forget"

he never saw the "hard as steel" resolve in her eyes

12:10am
he turned around and glared at her with "those eyes"
she remembered the look, from once before
"not again" she said
"not this time, you son of a bitch"

she couldn't feel the fear anymore

12:05am
she looked around the corner
and saw his shape, and wanted to puke
the steel in her hand felt cold
like the heart that raced furiously in her chest

she didn't notice the trembling of her hand

12:03am
the gun was heavy in her hand
but she felt unusually strong tonight
she walked out of her room
then she slowly closed the door behind her forever

she didn't notice the sound of a bone breaking in the other room

12:01am
she awoke to the sound of Friday night
she heard her mother crying as knuckles crushed skin
his screaming only confirmed what she already knew
she wondered if this was the night......
as she walked pensively across a dirty floor

he never heard the sound of one drawer creaking slowly

May 29, 2005

Four Lines

I've been here before, she said
unable to speak
unable to write
yes, I remember this place

thoughts rattle around
inside her mind
racing nervous circles
always to the left

she feels strangely silent
as the din of confusion
eliminates the droning
of boredom around her

always four lines at a time
not two
never three
always four

her ink dipped feather
drips clumsily
on a page
left wanting

spots
where words should have been spoken
stains
where smiles could have been reflected

sometimes, it seems,
all her past thoughts and screams
come echoing back
all at once

"how can I know for sure
that I'm who I'm supposed to be?"
"after all," she said,
"I'm only me!"

always four lines at a time
not two
never three...

May 23, 2005

Fall

A bud grew on an oak tree in a certain suburban yard. The spring rain trickled down through the ground to the root. There, the tree pumped the nourishing moisture through its veins to the small new bud.

The bud grew into a beautiful leaf. She finally viewed the whole wide world around her. Seeing things she never had seen. And what a view. Birds would light to rest near her. She would listen to their songs, feel the wind move her about. Always happy to just be there. Discovering all the wide world around her. Never looking forward to, or fearing the end. People would walk beneath her, always seeming to be in a hurry. Children would lean against the trunk of her tree, never seeming to have a care. No one noticed her. But she was happy.

Summer came and she would thirst. Just when she felt she could not carry on, a merciful thunderstorm would roll through. Even though the fearsome winds would wail about, she held firm. The veins of the tree would carry the water to her once again and she would revive. She always felt her best after a storm.

Temperatures cooled as the days went on. The laughter of children became less frequent. The wind became more of an opponent. The storms continued. The sun rested a little lower in the horizon.

For a short time, the rain and wind ceased. The bright sun shone against a brilliant blue sky. The trees around her seemed to be on fire. She, too, had changed. She had gone through a rainbow of colors and had settle on a beautiful crimson. People now stopped to stare. Children pointed. Some even smiled.

Yet, she was tired. She was thirsty.

A frost came. And the veins within the tree slowed. She began to grow listless. She began to feel her grip on her family grow weak. Those who had been closest to her began to fall away. Where were they going she wondered. When would I go. She was weak. In all this, she never feared.

One day as she considered her future, she grew very weary. There were no people. There were no children. No smiles and no water. The sun had disappeared for days. She had been so strong all this time. But it was time to let go. She took one look up..... to the sky. Then one look down.... to the ground beneath.

Then, she let go. She fell.

It wasn't that she had given up. No, she was ready to go. She had served her purpose. She had finished her course. It was simply time to go. Someplace new. Someplace different.

As she began to fall, a bird winged near her. She thought to herself.... "so this is what it is to fly."

Days later, a child came near. She was not aware of the child. She was no longer fresh and pliable. She was old and stiff and cracked when she moved. The child took her and placed her in a book.

50 years later.........

A book in an attic. A child climbs creaky stairs. The sound of steps approaches. "Grandma, what's this?" she said. "Just a book" came the answer.

The old woman stepped into the attic and sat down on a pile of old, faded newspapers. "Let me see what you've found there my dear." The old woman opened the book to the page where the leaf had been resting all this time.

And for an instant, there were three young spirits in that attic. The little girl held the leaf and wondered at the color. The old woman smiled widely as she said hello to an old friend. A tear welled up in her eye. As she smiled and recalled a beautiful fall day many years ago, the tear became too heavy to remain in the old woman's eye.

It hesitated... let go.... And fell.

Don't we all.........

May 3, 2005

Write On

Poets are people who feel too strongly,
see with such deep perception
all the virtue and evil
this world has to offer.

Sometimes overcome by the beautiful and rare
passions of this life.
Sometimes tormented and even killed
by the agony of loss.

I use to wonder
condescendingly
about poets.

No more...

For I am a poet..
embracing all the blessings and curses
that accompany this noble, if not happy office.

But do not wonder condescendingly about me,
for I would have it no other way.

Write on ye noble poets...

January 20, 2005

Butterfly in November

A True Story - Perhaps not about Butterflies at All -

I saw a Butterfly in November
yesterday
she was alone and beautiful

and though her season would soon end
she carried on in her own way
oblivious to the coming cold

she appeared delicate, fragile and small
but I sensed in her a strength
I envied
as I watched her fly away

this morning I woke to a biting frost
and as my breath appeared to me
hanging in the bitter cold
I thought about that November Butterfly
and how it is sometimes the little things
we take with us forever

and in that way
she will live beyond this mortal season

I shall not be the only one who knew
she was here

as I tell my children's children
some cold autumn hour
about my Butterfly in November
from yesterday

November 8, 2004

Peace

Your sudden departure
was like water that carves canyons
Leaving the empty space behind it

There are things I wish I'd said
Like how much......
or maybe that you....
Did I ever tell you....

I didn't think so.

But you already knew.

So, instead,
Goodbye to you
and to everything unsaid
and to all that was not done

Truth be told, if you were here
You'd say the same thing...
"I forgive you, Goodbye"

Goodbye.

Finally...

May 24, 2004