Category Archives: POETRY

MISSING YOU

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Are the stars truly fixed in the sky?

When you are away the sun

stops in its tracks 

and earth’s orbit slows 

in heartbeats counted

by years, not seconds.

“Time stands still,” others say.

I say time goes on without me

while there is no us to see.

Without you, the universe stills

along the path of its trajectory.

I wait with bated breath and sigh

for your return while I

watch time march on.

I watch the sky for clues

when the universe would return

you to me and me to you.

Side by side we 

can make the sun move.

As we move

among the stars

in ecstasy.

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MEN

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Which man is best ?

The industrious man who

labors and toils unconstrained

by regulation, whose aim is gain?

The religious man who

offers sacrifice and praise

by God’s fiat, whose aim is to save?

The autocratic man who

routs and rules unconfined

by lesser beings, whose aim is control?

The humanist man who

listens and learns, open to all

with relative views, whose aim is love?

The warrior man who

strengthens and fights unconfined

by social rules, whose aim is to win?

Why question each type 

with binary rules?

Is man not ever called upon

to be each and every one?

Would we label and libel all man kind?

Look not on the surface,

but deeper inside, where soul resides.

Honor men and those who love them

warts and all.

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LIFT EVERY VOICE

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Is it the nightingale

whose song we hear

as day turns to night

and weakens us with fright?

Or the lark whose sweet song

drifts upon the rising dawn

announcing a new day has begun?

Together, they make music

and fill our world with song

that we may dance,

in graceful strides forward,

to encourage and make us strong.

Lift every voice and sing.

It is time to sing along.

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SINK OR SWIM

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The lights are low

aligned with thoughts

of swimming free,

a simple fish

swimming toward light,

suddenly caught

now distraught;

facing a tightening thread.

lifted alight and set right

on the trawler’s deck,

only to face slaughter.

Low thoughts, indeed,

in an ocean of democraseas.

“if onlys” abound

as I flutter and flounder 

and flap atop the heap

of fish so like me.

Unsure of success

I push fear aside

propelling my self

over the side,

carried away on the tide

of endless seas of hope.

I am free!

I am free!

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HAIKU

8/22/22

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Dreams are the blueprint

for life’s emerging story.

Each frame a promise.

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LOVE AND MIRACLES

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Either everything is a miracle

or nothing can be. 

The choice is ours.

It seems to me.

More is unseen than seen;

more unknown than known.

I believe in all that could be.

I await the next miracle.

Hope tells me this is true.

Faith gives me patience to wait

for miracles, my heart to renew.

Hold my hand and we

can wait together.

Oh, the wonders we shall see;

none more miraculous

than my love for you 

and yours for me.

Love show us miracles

to set our souls free.

Either everything is love

or nothing can be.

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LIFE BLOOD

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Rivers flow with water and blood

above earth’s bedrock and my own

carved out from the beat of a steady flow.

Banks erode, sometimes 

bursting,  or crumbling slow.

Older beds are no longer smooth;

broken branches snagged

and embedded roughly in the 

now-gravelled surface below.

My skin and earth’s, bruised

and channeled by our river’s glow.

As the drying out continues

to thicken and slow 

river’s course is brought low.

Finally, so dry it comes to an end

and our efforts to amend

cannot stop its final show.

Dried rivers of water or of blood

cannot sustain life

while we foolishly wonder

“Where did the rivers go?”

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BEING HUMAN

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When fingers are frozen

with too-tight a grip on the trigger,

and hearts are so cold

that their over-heated words

freeze others’ tongues,

can their ice-blocked minds

ever be thawed?

Have they become mere automatons

unable to think an errant thought,

icily convinced they are always

right?

Are their minds no longer their own?

Are they so frozen in fear,

so brittlely certain that they are in danger

of reason breaking into hard shards?

“Who are these people?” is not

an uncommon question, nor

one of personal identity.

It questions if they are indeed

part of humanity.

The true question must be

“Are they human?”.

For those still warm enough to reason,

to progress, to change, to love

that question is what we really fear.

For, if they could lose their humanity,

might not we?

Has humanity chosen self-immolation

in an over-heated fossil-fueled world?

It is a choice within every nation.

Elections matter in a time like this.

Voting is an act of creation.

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HAIKU

LA, age 3, dance studio

All poetry is

autobiography.

‘nough said already.

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FIXING U.S.

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The dining table is the place

where family and friends gather

to partake of shared memory,

long history, and future planning.

I sit at a table with a leg cut short.

It wobbles and shakes discomforting

all seated round, frowning

and disconcerted, alerted to danger

of falling plates, tipped glasses.

We make an effort to stabilize the table

while grabbing utensils and protecting laps.

Some say, let’s move to another table.

Others look for a deck of cards

or a roll up napkins to place under 

the shortened leg, while the rest wonder

how a simple meal could have become

such a disturbing conumdrum.

Any fix cannot last. The thought

of a restful meal is long past. 

Many simply leave the scene

wanting only peace and a place

where they can eat decent meal.

The table can be fixed we know.

It will not be fast. Any fix should last.

Remove that bad leg and replace

with a leg that carries the table with grace.

Cutting off the other three

might improve the table’s stability.

But would anyone but the very small

fit at such a table, not brought low?

Ignoring the furniture in our world

has brought us to this?

No place to safely and calmly sit?

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