Poems Texts

A Flower
A flower
Swaying in a gentle breeze
Feels the sun
And unfolds to to its warmth.
A delicate beauty
Gracing the world
Greets the dome overhead.
The sun and sky look down
And smile.

Notes: none.

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A Moment
The hour grows late.
The air grows chill
And the circle of warmth
Around me
Shrinks
To coincide with the light
Above me.
The quiet is growing,
Pushing away the world
Increasing the distance
Between Here
And There.
And the space Between
Lies like a vacuum
Waiting to be filled
With a mood of my choosing.
I pause.

Notes: As I recall, I was in my first post-MIT apartment sitting at the card table that served as kitchen table, communications center and desk. (And then there was the bicycle that doubled as a towel rack, but I digress.) It was placed under a hanging incandescent lamp whose bulb, on a winter's night, provided both a small spot of light and warmth. I think I was drinking Sabra, a gift from Sue, and feeling mellow.

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A Seed
Spring.
A seed awakens,
Trembling through the soil
Reaching, reaching upward
to Sunlight
to grow to the Sky!
But comes the mower,
and it is cut down.

Notes: none.

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Alone
A quiet has fallen
The stillness surrounds me
And I am alone in silence
For you are not there.
In your going, you left a void
Where soft whispers are no longer heard
And warm embraces are no longer shared
For you are not there.
The house remains as you left it
But now -- standing solemn and gray
It is no longer a home
For you are not there.

Notes: none.

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	Dawn. Dark departs. Withdrawing to the west. Fleeing before the coming day.
Night. Dark reigns. The moon softly glows. The glow brings hope.	Cycle	Day. Light rules. The sun gently warms. The warmth gives life.
	Dusk. Light fades. Yielding to the shadow. Fading before the coming night.

Notes: none.

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Good Morning!
Good Morning!
Arise!
Greet the sun!
A new day dawns.
Come -
Join me for today
Let us celebrate
For the air is sweet
The land lush and green
And life abounds.
Watch the beauty.
Feel the joy.
Let us play with the children.
It is a good day,
For we are here
And we have this day;
Let us share.

Notes: none.

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Infinity (I)
Infinity, stretching on and on
Never ending nor beginning
For it has no bounds
In fear minds have quaked
Not able to accept
Instead -
They cling to simple ideas
Yokes to the searching soul.

Notes: none.

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Infinity (II)
Infinity stretching on and on
Never ending nor beginning
For it has no bounds.
In truth an ideal
No finite mind can grasp
In its entirety.
The concept temps a mind
Yearning for absolutes.

Notes: none.

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Is Anyone There?
In the darkness of night I reach out:
Is anyone there?
In the light of day I call out:
Is anyone there?
I go forth with love to share:
Is anyone there?
I am alone in the crowd:
Is anyone there?
I look around and ask, Why?
Is anyone there?
My weary soul asks:
Is anyone there?

Notes: none.

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Luna
Luna, beautiful daughter of the Earth
Your light shines down upon us
Softening the harsh darkness
And bathing the night in silver.
Oh fair Goddess!
What have you seen
On that eternal vigil
High in the starry skies?
Have you noticed us
The mortal children of Earth?
Have you seen our works
Or heard our songs of praise?
Help us radiant Sister!
Give us your aid!
With your light bring us wisdom,
Speak to use here below!
Luna, Queen of the night,
Silently reigning darkened realms,
You see our follies from above;
Why do you not speak?

Notes: I've always felt a special connection with the moon, and not just because I was an astronomy buff and space nut. The beauty of a full moon over a snowfield on a cold, clear winter's night is a sight that can bring tears to my eyes. She was my companion on nocturnal snowshoe treks around the woods and fields of my home town. And in Greek mythology, Athena had always been my favorite god, edging out Apollo.

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Mars (I)
Pale blue encircles the horizon
Deeping to soft black above
A small orb embedded in the sky
The sun resting on its black velvet dome.
Red sands sift at your feet
Blow by a thin, wailing wind
The sound your armor
Protecting against surrounding silence.
Cold and bleak, a lifeless void
Towering mountains chiseled in stone
Straddling deep chasms
With forbidding walls of darkness.
Gazing at the landscape
An alien in your surroundings
You look at the desolation
And see beauty.

Notes: none.

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Mars (II)
Pale blue encircles the horizon
Deepening to soft black above
A small orb embedded in the sky
The sun resting in a black velvet dome.
A faint wisp of cloud
Lonely in a dark sky
Again defying the land below
Speaking of times before.
The wind whistles over jagged rock
And brings with it hissing sand
Together they carve eerie figures
While singing the ancient songs.
Fine dust stirs on a sand swept sea -
Dancing and playing with the wind
Among the rolling dunes
Of a vast, eternal plain.
A long winding channel
Weaves around time worn hills
And vanishes into the plain
Seeking a sea that is no more.
Cold an bleak, a lifeless void
Towering mountains, thrust above the plain
Straddling deep chasms, chiseled in stone
With forbidding wells of darkness.
The tortured land speaks of desolation
Of a long, terrible battle with Time.
It is stark, harsh, and rugged.
Everywhere there is Beauty.

Notes: none.

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Mists in the Rain
The rain is falling,
Shielding me from a busy world
Where men are born, and live, and die,
In a frantic search
For love, for peace, for happiness,
Thinking they have found each,
Only to find they are but phantoms
Like mists in the rain.

Notes: As a teenager, I was wont to roam the darkened and deserted streets of my little home town on rainy evenings. I'd muse about many things and on one misty autumn night, the heart of this poem came to me. It is still my favorite, after all this time. The last pronoun in this piece is not superfluous; it introduces a necessary ambiguity as to its antecedent. Are the phantoms the dreams, or the dreamers? The answer is, of course, both. Thematically, this is "shadows chasing shadows".

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November Journey (I)
Beneath a sky November gray
I watched a long and lonely day
Finally vanish, swiftly fading from my sight.
And standing in the leaves
Amongst these ashes of the trees
I heard a sound not soft upon my ear.
For an icy wind, cold and bitter
Brisk herald for the coming winter
Came and settled for a lengthy stay.
With this frigid arctic greeting
Twilight ended, very fleeting
Yielding to frosty stars and blackened sky.
Beneath these hard stars, cold and bright,
Within the darkness of the night
Stood before me a vapor in the air.
This little wisp of cloud
From a breath too harsh and loud
Betrayed me as one not rightly being there.
So I turned from this forbidding clime
And through the vision of my mind
Skipped ahead on down the empty path.
For when I reach my journey's end
I will find both warmth and friend
And the ending to a darkness born in gray.

Notes: My homage to Robert Frost. His Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening is my favorite of all poems.

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November Journey (II)
Beneath a sky, November gray
I watched a long and lonely day
Finally vanish, swiftly fading from my sight.
As I stood there with the leaves
Amongst those ashes of the trees
A sound not soft came before the night.
An icy wind, cold and bitter
Brisk herald for coming winter
Stole the leaves and whipped them into flight.
With this frosty, arctic greeting
Twilight ended, very fleeting
And in the darkness, stars -- cold and bright.
Beneath this high, majestic dome
I mutely waited, all alone
But ere long my eyes fell from that height.
Saw before me a wispy cloud
From a breath too harsh and loud
Betrayed the one who here was not right.
So from this most forbidding clime
I skipped on ahead, to future time
For my heart new visions did invite.
Of when I reach my journey's end
To surely find both warmth and friend
And rest within arms of loving light.

Notes: I'm not quite sure what inspired me to revisit November Journey, but for the rework I decided to tighten the 8/8/9 meter and overlay another rhyme scheme onto the basic one. The constraints left me a bit clumsy: I'm sure to come back to this one again.

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Quiet
Quiet.
The day is calm
Sunlight warms the meadow
And bathes the mountains.
A rabbit pauses to sniff the air
Busy munching on lush, green clover
Undisturbed by a barking dog
Protecting its master's home.
Then,
The calm is broken
A blinding flash and fatal warmth:
Man ignites another sun
Searing mountain and meadow,
Rabbit and dog alike.
All is gone but ashes and
Quiet.

Notes: none.

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Sadness
It fills me.
It makes me ache.
It brings weariness.
It is the inertia to life.
It hides beauty.
It steals the place for my happiness.
It feeds upon me.
It empties me.

Notes: I like to balance beginnings and endings. You can see this as well in the poem directly above on this page, Quiet and further up in November Journey (I).

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Salute
Reaching for the sky
Standing tall and proud
Symbol of majesty
I salute you -
Telephone pole.

Notes: Completely tongue-in-cheek; written for its down-the-garden-path effect, as was A Seed. While I was writing it I was completely unaware of the phallic angle, but noticed that aspect reading it later.

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Springtime?
Period One Chemistry.
Another experiment.
Your body imprisoned on a stool
your mind free outside
with them
playing, dancing, rolling, tumbling
skipping in the snow.
Springtime?
Buried in Winter's white shroud.
Will it ever come?
Maybe.
Your hopes leaping, soaring
flying far away.
A Voice calls out, across the distance.
No Sir! Yes Sir!
You turn back to
tinkling glass,
spilled solution,
the screaming
and wandering lab partners.
Realization.
You did it wrong.
Springtime?
It's coming.
It's coming.

Notes: It was April I think and snow was still on the ground, but a warm, bright sun was fast melting it. I was sitting in Chemistry class, partnered up with somebody or other for some "experiment", the pair next to us was just goofing off, things weren't going well at our station, and suddenly I couldn't wait for the period to be over.

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Sunday Night
my, my
how the time is flying
slipping by
to leave a wake
of emptiness
i strain
to catch the passing sound of
silence
to taste the flow of life
and prepare
to plunge again into the stream
i have drifted along
from moment to moment
to become stranded
upon a sandbar
i am alone
a metaphorical wind
blows by
and i am chilled in the darkness
feeling the warmth flow away
to be lost in the sand
it is a long way home
darkness
everywhere darkness
surrounds me
and i shiver in the night
for the stars give no warmth
the moon is dark
i am lost
far from the familiar paths
the sound of my footsteps
echoes from the rock
returning to haunt me
mocking
in the pretense of company
the wind whisles through the rocks
the stream is vanished
swallowed in the night
hidden
and the distance comes
and wraps itself around me
an infinite cage
nonexistent walls surround me
i am trapped
i am tired
an empty shell
with no spark of life
with a pile of shadows
left from a flame of light
the echos are silent
i stand
not because i so will
rather
i cannot fall
as the effort is beyond me
i live
but by what right?
i look into space
and feel the void become solid
the emptiness tangible
comprised of itself
the substance flows through me
i mark my place
with reference to the flow
of nothing
it passes by
i climb the rocks
the air is clear
crisp
cold
it is clean
the stars are hard jewels
shining in a perfect black
watching
distant
my heart reaches up
i am bound to the earth
a wind comes from the west
warm, damp
an etherial companion
why does it visit me this night?
it whispers with the trees
whose leaves chatter and rustle
with soft murmurings mysterious
they do not fear me
i turn to my beloved north
and at the end of the silky path
of the milky way
i see her
faint, timid
shy of my watching eye
she dances
with a grace befitting her stage in the heavens
behind a pale green veil
slowly, perfectly
in a harmony of motion
then exits
fading into the background
and is gone
i throw her my love
but she does not return to claim it
the wind is jealous
and tickles my skin
blowing lightly through my hair
i smile
a sad smile
for i like the wind
but do not love her
the wind grows cold
i am sad
i sit behind a tree
hidden from the wind
crouched to find some warmth
the moon rises
silent as the stars
shedding her orage robe of rising
for a silvery white evening gown
queen of the heavens
i often speak to her
but get no reply
for she deigns we mortals
must answer our own questions
the clouds come
black holes moving across the sky
carried by my jealous wind
to gather
their tempers flashing
and the sky echoes their grumble
it rains
normally i walk in the rain
sharing the night with the mists
and the steady drumming of raindrops
but the clothing that protects me
saving my warmth even when wet
is gone
i must go in
leaving my companions of night and rain
to keep each other's company
i turn my gaze inward
to walk the pathways of my mind
of my self
of my soul
i walk in silence
i choose some music
to break the silence
but not the quiet
music is a mirror
a looking glass into myself
i stop
i hear the waves
the sound of rushing water
a flood
to sweep me up and wash me away
plunged again into the icy water
the torrent of living
i hide behind the window of my eyes
my fortress surounds me
with a moat no one has crossed
walls no one has breached
safe
trapped
the hall is large
and empty
a fire giving its light
a staircase to the rooms above
a shield hangs on the wall
a blazing sun in yellow
resting in a sky of blue
warming a field of green
that lies before a mountain gray
capped with a mantle snowy white
beneath lie the words
I am.
if i climb the stairs
i go to see dusy rooms
filled with memories
and dreams saved
if forgotten
but behind the stairs
is a heavy door
leading down to musty dungeons
where a lone torch is dim
and i fear to walk
for what lies hidden there?
i leave the hall
cross the yard
and begin the long climb to the tower
to my private room
where i will watch
for the dawn

Notes: The music references are all to Simon & Garfunkel, one of whose albums I was playing. The reference to walking in the rain is to the experience that produced Mists In The Rain. The rising moon was the same image that inspired Luna. And the stars as hard jewels sequence will eventually inspire November Journey. (And note the only line with both capitalization and punctuation.)

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Sunrise After Doomsday
A pale gleam on the horizon,
And light has cleared the vision,
An orb rests in the sky,
The sun has risen!
The shadows are growing shorter,
In a crater of Doomsday,
Evidence of Man's blindness,
For which all did pay.
The H-bomb was the weapon,
It was built up to the last,
Until that final day,
When the fateful die was cast.
The missles left each silo,
The jets, they left each base,
Until no life was left,
Upon Earth's ruined face.
In the horror of the destruction,
Man learned far too late,
If friendship had been given,
He need not meet this fate.
Under the fierce, driving sun,
A deathly wind blows sand,
And carries the Doomsday Message
To an atom-blasted land.

Notes: none.

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The Breeze
I hear a breeze whispering to the trees
Hiding its voice beneath the rustle of leaves,
Bearing tidings from a warm yellow sun
To the trees, flowers, and small creatures
Of the fields and forest below.
I run with the breeze
Flying through secluded meadows
Feeling a freedom in the wind
A freedom it has and shares.
I stand on a small hill,
Playing with the dancing wind
Celebrating the gift of life.
I lie down on the warm earth
Thinking of what the breeze has said.
I sleep to its gentle lullaby.
I awake to watch great, white mountains
Made of delicate, misty fleece
Drifting slowly, slowly overhead
Sailing peacefully on a steady breeze
And I wish I could but follow.
I see the wind slowly fading
Lingering for a moment,
And then off to explore,
Looking for new places to play
I sit up and taste the clean air
Left by the departed breeze,
Savoring its delicious freshness.
I am alone in a field that is
Deserted by the whispering wind.
I await the breeze's return.

Notes: none.

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The Pedestal
I look out upon the world
Sitting on a stone pedestal
My back against a marble wall.
The viewpoint may not be the best,
But it is, at least, secure.

Notes: When I wrote this I had actually climbed up on an empty pedestal in Lobby 7, watching the night hallway traffic go by. That marble was cold!

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To Carol
I opened my eyes
And saw your face
Even though the room was dark.
Your eyes were closed.
What visions did you see
In that dreamy sleep?
They must have been beautiful
For you lay there so peaceful
Quietly smiling to the night.
Then you stirred slightly
And I put my arm around you,
Holding you warm and close.
You rested against me
Returning to your dreams
Calm again.
The room slowly lightened
And I heard the morning gulls
Speak of the approaching day.
So quickly the night ended!
You opened your eyes
And looked into mine.
You said "Good morning"
And I replied with another truth,
I love you.

Notes: A long time ago, a whirlwind from Pennsylvania swept up a leaf from Maine and carried him into her heart. She won his respect. She won his trust. She won his affection. And after all these years, she still has them all.

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222
I know of two
Who became very close
Growing together
I am pleased.
I hear of difficulty
A wall standing between them
There is pain
I am troubled.
I see the wall removed
For it was but a wall
Against a mightier force
I am at peace.
I sit quietly
Watching the tenderness
Feeling the love shared
I am happy.
I stir deep within
Life has given to me
A taste of its beauty
I have no words.

Notes: none.

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Waiting
I look anxiously out the window.
Is it here yet?
Is that it?
No, not yet.
I sit back.
It's been half an hour now -
Since I saw the flash
And the cloud.
I knew it was coming.
I wasn't surprised.
They never learned.
Building the better weapons
Hurrying to be ahead,
They said "Wait, Peace shall come".
But it didn't.
So, They built more weapons,
Thinking Peace had to be.
And They waited.
And waited.
I see something out the window..
Is that it?
No, just dust blown from the street.
But I am patient.
I sit back to wait.
Unlike Them,
I feel no fear.
They didn't build Peace.
They wanted Time to bring It to Them.
Could They wait?
What is that?
Is that it?
Yes, it's here! It's here!
Outside, the dust filters down;
Fallout from the bombs,
Bringing Peace at last.
Waiting is done.

Notes: none.

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Waiting for Susan
Laundry time.
The last time with Susan.
Where oh where
Has the time gone?
I'm standing watch
Over the dryers
Checking that little red noses
Still glow as bright.
For with an early dimming
Of the light
I must offer up more
Quarters
To feed their appetite.
And keep them happy
While they take
The moisture from our clothes.
Nice little dryer.
Roll over little dryer.
Again little dryer.
And again.
And
Again.
(Out of the dryer
Endlessly tumbling...)
Methinks my mind
Is out to lunch
And my will
Has gone to keep it company.
Sigh.
I don't care.
Eventually, Susan will be back
(If she remembers)
And we can fold our laundry
So I
Can go back to bed.
One sometimes wonders
Seeing these words flow across the page like a little parade
Why
I am writing this way
And not
Another.
Who cares?
Yes, she does.
But that is neither here
Nor here
Or even there.
(If the reader will pardon
My liberal approach to grammar.)
So I watch the bird
Flying
To God knows where
And I wonder what the skies are like today.
Beneath the clouds of solemn gray
And above the green earth below.
What winds are there that blow
To new heights
For soaring
To fly high and see far
In an ever growing world?
And what
Of the drops of rain
Clinging to the leaves
Before some gust knocks them to the ground,
Or takes them for its very own?
I wait
And find my mind distracted
Flowing hither and yon
Upon the currents of chance
And happening on an occasional eddy
Where I turn back upon myself,
Or stop
To watch the world go 'round
Before moving on
Marching down this page.
Nay, not marching:
Wandering
Flowing
Falling
Walking through my thoughts,
With the occasional
Concession
To the realities of the world.
People come in
And clang and bang
And scurry about
Hurrying through their chores.
Oops.
Susan
Is here.

Notes: Susan and I were in the habit of doing our laundry together, our two piles together could be sorted into separate whites/darks loads that made more efficient use of the washers (and our quarters!). My lease on my dorm room was up; this would be the last time we were so domestic together. Evidently, she had woken me up to do the laundry, one last chance to efficiently utilize the available facilities, and me. As a favor, I had stayed with the machines and kept them fed (and guarded, as is sometimes necessary in a dormitory). I brought along paper-and-pen to keep me company. (The Who reference is to Sue Who, aka Susanne Abramovitz, a mutual friend of ours.)

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Yuletide Reflections
Christmas again approaches.
It is a very special time of year to me
A time of peace
A time of joy
A time of beauty
You are a very special person to me
Whose love brings thoughts of
The warm, peaceful glow of a gaily decorated tree
The joy of human voices merrily singing carols
The quiet beauty of a snowfall
I wish to share these thoughts with you
And again speak a truth within me
I love you.

Notes: Okay, Hallmark won't be hiring me any time soon, or ever. But I'd rather send a personal note than buy something industrial off a rack. This was on my Christmas card for that year.

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