• it’s only tears

    it’s only tears
    that make me wish to word so well
    the well is deep
    temper quell ripped defeat
    as laughs are nothing cheap

    I look at him
    he takes my arm
    as if he stroked my cheek from harm
    the many months aloof
    hadn’t seen him in many a year
    wearing tailored suits

    and never wore him boots
    but custom made shoes
    that hid the kid so lovingly
    gallant dad uncouth

    but for his truth
    though thin today still boldly gray
    without a word to say
    he needs us me and you so much

    dinner breakfast lunch
    retired to humility
    the seamless life of liberty subdued

    a thoughtless boisterous melody for all of us to sense
    in him vacant memory
    that turns attention to the sun a window on the world to catch some warmth
    familiar on his pudum

    eyes that match the sky
    endure the pouring of the rain ignore the bitterness of pain explore a little child’s game

    he served out his usefulness
    carried his family on his back
    never lacking support the needed strain
    under the gun of a material
    sun summed up his world with
    tears that came that I wasn’t his son to fly the flag unfurled
    for he is just a man of trust and I his little girl.

  • he was there

    he smiled encouragement a man of honor
    representing family ethics
    white collar
    mourned the 6 million
    they were martyrs
    Baruch atoi adanoi-as we light the candelabra
    a holy man who hadn’t been to shule
    schools of thought fishes swimming opposite in twos
    upon the Larchmont lawn the morning dew
    he was there but seldom home, were you?
    the evening papers Adli Stevenson
    he believed in him like no other mothers son
    righteous indignation bright external gifts
    all that money could buy-two dollar tips
    cars boats colleges trips
    faithful never able to come to grips
    how he loved horseradish on his gefilte fish.

  • his furrowed brow

    carry my body back to France
    if only he would sing
    or stand up on his feet the way
    he danced the night away
    vital and alive at 25
    freed from childhood dark and grim
    married his sweetheart
    from the company of the king
    draped her in mink
    taught her to drink
    baked Alaska made her sick
    on a train from New York to Mexico
    Penny beautiful naive
    Harold passionate extreme
    sports cars travel business
    2 kids and a dog best wishes
    with help to wash the dishes
    6 boxes of cigars at a time
    Macanudo
    Mouton Rothschild vintage wine
    that was a good year
    when we were 12 and 9
    and mother would cook
    her shrimp Kap-lan
    spilling in a little of her Miller
    and Queen’s southern fried chicken
    mashed potatoes and gravy
    Granny Smith apple pie and
    lemon meringue
    I was a fat little kid-still am
    The Rani June 1-2-and 3
    Driftwood Lane the cottage by the bay
    mom catching every sunrise
    with her camera, many moons flashed
    before her eyes
    and dad became quiet
    relieving doubt and strain
    to sooth his furrowed brow
    he made all our dreams possible
    i coiling ropes salute you
    on your bow
    sail on, Dyer Dow.

  • mend my mood

    reprise alive the well
    wisdoms like minions of pigeons
    in the park feed on birdseed
    a friendly stranger sells
    I am caught between the passive
    heart and salt among the lung
    it is certainly an epiphany this side
    of wellness working, the angels
    mend my mood on a moonless Monday
    afternoon-for in the gloom of
    heartfelt ruin-in tune with
    june-stewing in her own juices
    till the good man took her by the hand and said to Mrs Kaplan your
    daughter holds much water
    no salt diet/should be bland-and as dad would emote-“then I wrote”–my
    daddy would sing, “carry my body back to France, amid the bleeding
    corpses-and then armed to the teeth i will rise
    from my grave, for my emperor to do battle”.

  • the morning after

    fried chicken smothered in gravy
    lives put on hold unheard
    to grieve would make me regret her
    conceived to help her feel better
    relieved to see the beauty in a girl
    her eyes the bluest seas
    to walk the grounds with tulip trees
    how high the mighty graceful branches
    caught the light swaying in prayer
    for mama and papa and two baby bears
    the dining room formal the Beacon Hill Chairs-
    a china birdcage without a bird hanging on a heavy chain in front of
    the bay window
    told of life on Devonshire a family doing well
    bitter herbs were Harold’s words fell apart our world
    we weren’t doing too well-the tin man had no heart
    a man who cannot love will not be well nor smart
    we had cars vacations yachts expectations
    Glenfiddish imported from Scotland
    Dimple scotch from the UK
    Tanqurey gin the best martini
    Boodles gin don’t forget the olive
    will never forgive the olive
    Mouton Rothschild
    red like his blood curdling screams
    Dom Perignon-
    how fortunate we felt we’d been
    as ducks take to water
    as Christ changed water into wine
    dad should have drunk the holy water
    and not have drowned his sorrows
    for his lifetime
    it wouldn’t have been so bad
    but for the prescription drugs
    the combination turned him insane
    on a nighty basis a life too pained
    never asked for help
    it was too late he couldn’t stop blaming
    the abused became the abuser
    his mother the accused
    dazed dementia he smiles and waves
    forgetting a past
    he never remembered
    the morning after.

  • he never wore blue jeans

    in the besiege of days when your
    cold hands entrap an older man
    acceptance enwrapped in
    bittersweet memory-all the world
    is your cage to step the path of rage
    so long unsure where nothing seems
    to matter anyway yet for you
    a Titan manufacturer of goods
    irreverent so greatly misunderstood
    standing for the worker as he would
    decisive respectful of people in the know
    spiteful of every enemy choosing his battles
    keeping his demons well hidden inside the family
    emotional deeply damaged big daddy
    a partner for his Penny give her a Cadillac
    business where he thrived/relationships made him scream
    he never wore blue jeans
    off-beat never found his niche
    thought his mother was a bitch
    had a soft spot for his brother
    but hated his sister in-law
    because she thought he was too rich
    there were cars and bars and family trips
    there were yachts that docked-the 5pm dewers sips
    a cooler dueler duly noted singer bread winner
    would be hard to find
    dancing the night in time to unwind with his
    beautiful wife
    and the kids were as loved as rare bottles of wine.

  • weep for papa

    conflict
    inner turmoil spoils the child
    introspection in expression
    aging changes digression
    mad to wild
    a presence to inhabit
    a hostel roaming smile
    in whiles on Manhattan island
    to best the dire day
    I lay low alone
    and have it out with words as if to say
    the king of swords sent me away
    and I am so much bluer
    no messages to woo him
    depression is a cruel thing
    I thought I knew him
    alone under stars cold blank bite
    I grieve that nothing stays the same
    an eve to weep for papa
    as mama plays the game
    dancing to an enchanted tune
    how fortunate the fame
    he holds her arm will not let go
    the Yankee and his dame.