To my faithful readers: That Fifth Element is now available in paperback at Amazon!

$4.75.

 Thank you to Editor Kathy Kieth of Medusa's Kitchen for publishing 5 of my poems today.

Beatles’ Orbs

The Fab Four’s eyes,

We know them well.

If, that is, you can sing all their songs.

Ringo                  light blue eyes

sparkle with a smile not downhearted

Droopy yet round

                                    Sparkling cheerful

No misery behind those drums

       No low spirit in any reflection

Brownish green eyes

hazel-eyed Paul

Puppy dog eyes

                 A clear case of adorable round eyes

Hey bulldog!

Both over the rainbow where no more tears are shed

from any eye:

Tender expressioned George

Dark brown sad eyes

Yet full of kindness and warmth

Devotion to laconic charisma

shy eyes

John’s light brown dancing eyes

  A droop as the hooded eyes of the Irish

Carefree

a sensation of triumph reflected back

This acoustical dynasty,

frozen expressions in photos versus inquisitive faces on film and in real life

Can you close your own eyes and picture theirs?

Church On The Corner At Sunset

There’s something charming in the sound of hymns

that hold out a promise that you may

change the course of your road.

Those suffering from personal discontent

will accept any promise of salvation

if given with extraordinary grace.

What new revelation is this

that the wealth of the world

can be contained within a body,

that old wine in a new bottle,

with a twist in the flavor,

from a place where grapes grow differently,

births a covenant with death,

becomes a time of hope

where fear and jealousy 

are taken out of the human equation.

This is the heart’s safety valve.

If Not Now, When?

How many horns must blow?

Towers built?

Sails unfurled?

How bright must stars shine?

Upon what shores

do we recite our speeches,

with shining edges of

beautiful quarrels passed through time,

holding forever in our minds that

it’s better to fail than to never try.

Laughter on the Other Side of the Door

Sometimes where we stand,

we must contend with great horrors and dismay.

We pass many doors because they appear too formidable.

They loom with more than a hint of the massive.

We dismiss them 

when they seems too heavy, too solid to move,

when they seem to be an impediment 

to any future happiness.

But, once we decide to press on,

we can feel an astonishing wave of strength,

we can be the key movers,

and after feeling a small or big shift

of the tumbler,

be more than ready to turn the knob

and experience the levity and relief on the other side.

Listening To Bach

Sounds he developed,

and with sound, made art.

Heard as love, heard as pain,

heard as hope, chords contained.

Music notes, as sculpture,

shaped with sharps and flats.

 Thank you to Strider Marcus Jones for publishing my poem in

The Lothlorien Journal.

Iscariot

A broken treaty,

a promise torn in half,

turned away,

can you ever have too much apostasy on your side?

Take the fall,

a roughed up staff,

rather stiff,

the external tarnish of the coins set off a pattern.

Stand your ground,

take the contusions,

in spite of all,

the almighty thinks you’re pretty special.

 

Thank you to editor Strider Marcus Jones for publishing my poem in the Lothlorien Poetry Journal.

Dead Or Not Dead

In the aura of a Tuesday morning,

on a bed which sets the stage,

lies a still body covered under a thick quilt.

One experience might be that

this body is giving a sad performance,

this body showing signs of torpidity

 that might hasten the end

as a series of loopholes 

for the proper functioning of the body,

copied throughout all systems,

are being allowed to cascade toward destruction.

All bone and muscle,    

having endured so many hours on life’s road,

makes the journey back 

to fine physicality seem hopeless.

One experience might be

this body refusing an invitation

to death throes,

pouring fire down on death,

his body exhibiting an eagerly seized rallying,

impressive gains of strength returning

from that place 

where human power and resilience come.

Either way, 

the least fluctuation of the pendulum

will lead to a great story.