at your leisure

unspoken language to harness the energy
gargantuan proportions the task masked
lapse in the lap of a wave through the
hint by fires flint the winter dimmer days,
to greet those artifacts gilded flowers in
pretty architecture at your leisure,
measure the dresser love the hutch so much,
seek and ye may find that sideboard from
1899, a Mecca of antiques, antiquated
anticipated-an English armoire original paint,
a time and a place the older the date the beauty
great-how quaint.

of the sea

clam in wet sand sinks in the drink of bubbles
to breathe the froth doubles as ocean waves
crash and prey upon a world of troubles-
from oceans ear to the mouth of the bay
gulls shrug off the cold, feel the flinging fad
to swoop into a loop below the waters wealth
a fish or two be had-as stealth the brazen
fisherman is he, seagull, natural born hunter
of the sea.

the milieu

I hear the lull of a lure in lullaby milieu, hesitate a borrowed fate
to remedy a memory seen where you’ve been, unheard to know harmony
occurs with windows of the spirit,
a mirror of history, recording the path down back ally ways that climb
like a cat to the top of the stair starved imperfection at the very
mention of her name without question that lead me to pools of
aquamarine cool water fresh pure clear as those sparkling deep
gray/blue eyes that well up with tears to sympathize my humble
cries-looking for a sunrise to brighten the day, forgive me my lies I
know not what I said, empty your anger and I will do the same, open
your heart let go of the pain, I humbly ask God to remove all defects
of character-I walk
in the pouring rain of tears loving from afar so many
years I am sorrow you are golden, words are flowing
to the depths of my soul I am broken, you remain soft spoken, the girl
of my dreams I reminisce, shy as an overcast sky.

penchant peace

penchant peace and heart purveys release of what her mind downplays
these daring days a symphony for the elderly/a riot she is elegance
dancing in light of harmony, an artist creates
dreams nocturnal streams, baptized by her right to flourish,
nourish her tender love, welcome the summer
true to the season outfitted for comfort complications
corrupt her upset her till sunset has her sink into the
sofa she owns her smiles and frowns one minute to
American Idol-she misses this weeks NY Times-
daughter is crazy loves her anyway lazy and mean to Penny
but she loves her yuman bean-it’s simpler than it seem,
laughing with her kid till June gets her goat, then mom wants to take
it on the lamb-and then I wrote as dad would say, trying to hit every
note, and the greek chorus
will come towards her in the morning, mother is bored she looks to the
fickle finger of fate like a baker of cakes filling it
with filling frosting whatever it
takes, relating to her environment
like a fireman putting out fires
as the days inspire in the mend
of her heart that breaks to lose
her friend, chalk it up to experience,
her art is her significance.

on the way

peaceful rivers thaw, fall away for sprig with leave,
buds like jewels, open perfumed
fragrant grasses willowy reeds, time the inevitable
passes entrapped in sap like molasses stems bent on pent up
blends of buttercups peeking through cracks of evening seems would
never end-no more grieving-birds sing sweetly recurring the stirring
moments yearn, caterpillars
turn inside out into butterflies, delicately cross moss marsh
and bog to rest their wings in nettled boughs and fly again to capture
a rose as honey to a bee, looking long for freedom found sees the
world upside down, in rapture little does she want, the air is lovely
this time of year, her wings a collage glide ever taut, as trim as a
sail on the rocks
on the way by the bay for a jaunt.

5 & 8

we have nothing without love
she is my mother like no other
blessed with her the day I was born
those sunny happy perfect days
trees in the breeze reached the sky
the grass grew tall about my thighs
the sun shined our hearts were light
dad smiled a lot when we were little tots
celebrate the holidays the snow
was three feet deep
sledding down the driveway
into the snowbound street
icy patches we would slip
fall down go boom with laughter
giggles and grins
cracking off icicles from the roof
crunching and munching them
with gusto-mom would call us in
for hot chocolate stripping off
our snow suits soaked to the skin-
then she would towel dry us-it was
the snowstorm of ’56-what a great
time to be 5 & 8 when we were
young and innocent in a world
where everything was great!

light of day

stars like silver foil kisses
served on Little Dipper dishes
the man in the moon croons a tune
of song about his only sun
to rise and set in clarity
the wisdom in his charity
fire burns brilliantly his golden mastery
resilient flame he dance before the Earth
heat is neat in skies the limitless blue
clouds sheer as shimmering shawls come near
to beckon the beautiful center of the universe
God’s gift throughout the heavens
the angels tumble and roll
cajoled by the laughter of levity
mild in the month of May
behold the light of day!

nightfall

morning sun evening moon
majestic ocean come what may
in east end towns by the bay
the moon is full
to color the day
in pinks and grays
green gold inlays
the 8th fold path
moon bath
nightfall
creatures turn a snowy white
in the light of a star filled sky
felt the petal and the leaf
under cover of belief
in the forest where the air would weep
the grass too tall to worry
the short end of the greener stem
exude young shoots a mauve in rows curved curly
in morning the moon descends to dream
in evening the stars wrapped in silver
of merriment mirrored
sparkling suspended animals in
cobalt sky
for everyone
a hug from God
for a tender goodnight.

a hope to heal

is illness but cold dark abandoned shed of tear? to think about you
dear so far from home and feelings of a castaway lost to throw stones
across the bay, to hit the mark as stake a claim, wellness the
priceless pit of peach
amid the center-reach, cling to the fruit to feast.
when moon is full
on some romantic beach, moon pull ocean the sandy stretch, a pageantry
of starlight where dreams are met,
seek sea birds in flight
dart like targets in the night of lofty flutter a shutter of
focus that zooms in on the horizon-fits of fog dissolve before another
sun, a hope to heal the moan of mourn unearth the morning dazzling
dawn.

the golden rule

conquest is a panacea of the past, in lives too lost to last..
to conquer my pompous mask I can’t face the waste I trash.
lashing out will not bring peace nor light or love so sweet,
when next that we should meet I pray to be back on my feet as cool in
summer heat with no thought of defeat-
open to the golden rule with time to share our weathered cares and
turn the other cheek, let me hold your hand and mend as we walk the
way back when.