Silver Moon

In the blink of clouds
silver moon peeks down at me
fills my night alone

Woman's Role?

speak softly on cue
laugh with, never at
allow him pants; smooth your skirt
show him the man he can be
always be ready
hurry up and wait

Ash

rise slowly from ash
flames burn from within
dreams promise passion in turn
wistfulness upon waking
pierce my loneliness
with your fiery lust

Goodbye

Goodbye is not an easy word.
There is a finality to it.
I much prefer until later
or see you another time.

See you later, alligator!

Our intentions may be true,
but we move on and get busy
with life in general. That
empty space fills slowly.

And it does fill...

one
painful
drop
at
a
time.

It is never the same again.
You go, I stay, and we miss
each other in eventuality.
Have a wonderful life, hon.

Trojan Soldiers

The Trojan soldiers
victored last night.
They charged en masse
through the drawbridge
and broken walls of defense.

The attack, a quick affair,
ended the realization
that my temple is sacred.
Our protective behavior
can be subtly pierced.

The blatant disregard
for all in their paths
leave me concerned
for future civilizations.
We must plan now.

Trojan Horses

The trojan died last night.
He rode off into the sunset
never to be seen again.

The havoc he caused during his stay
was more inconvenience than damage.
He wore out his welcome quickly.

He popped up at inopportune times.
We never knew what he could do.
We simply didn't trust him one bit.

With more lives than a cat,
we had to kill him where he lived.
We are the victors!

Getting Older

Aches and pains remind me
that my body is alive.
I'd rather acknowledge it
without the sensations.

Since this traitor
belongs to me, shouldn't
I, in particular, know
how old it is?

Pain does serve
to notify our brains
that bodies are slower
than our minds

and often braver.

Full Moon

Full moon swells brightly
artificial daylight begs
unstable events

Black Bird

A little black bird,
kind of cute,
came right up to me
on the sixth floor;
he seemed to want to chat.
He opened his beak,
I did not hear him sing.

I knew,
maybe he did not,
of the glass between us.
He still surprised me.
Communication mishap!
When I stood, he flew
to another audience.

Flower Among Weeds

Flowers grow among the weeds
when persistence prevails.
Hold your poetic head high
among the dandelions
and sing a melodic song.

The weeds eventually perish
as bees pollinate the hardy.
Spread your words with the wind
and savor the sunny delight.
Strong words fill your garden.

Stutter Mutter

Jumbled words race hopscotch
over each other in his brain.
They slow to an irritating drip
before they reach his mouth.

We wait for him to finish his thought.

At five years, he doesn't
have time to waste to get it right.
Impatience brushes persistence
as he mutters his latest feat.

White Noise

Resistance against white noise
tests our competence. We fail
to listen when nothing exists.
The family believes a world-renowned
specialist knows better than ourselves
what we need. As strangers,
we have no attachment to him.
He dictates, guiltless, and sleeps
the dreams of innocence.

Unseen and Unknown

Unseen and unknown poisons
eat her alive--and me.
Vicarious detachment spills
its evil ink onto silken sponges.
Soak up the pain and fill
emptiness with dread.

Don't Look Now!

Watch where you walk
even half asleep,
but hold your head high.
Tummy in, shoulders straight
benefits the posture.
Face the facts, being good
to your body occasionally
means stepping in crap.

Another Storm

The storm, in my dream,
so filled with turmoil,
troubled my slumber
and tossed obstacles
upon my puddled-filled path.

I thrashed at lightning
as I pushed the doors of rain
aside. Wind and water blinded
me as I crouched, naked,
as if to look beneath bedclothes.

I must find my lover
before he is swallowed
by ravaging floodwaters.
Time was never important
until now...my moon is late.

Every son needs a warrior
who hunts the bear for food
and warmth. Every strong woman
seeks one stronger than herself.
I must reach him so he knows.

June Heat

Heat has made me dry
and creaky like a door
in need of oil that groans
as it moves. Even my bones
grow weary and heavy.

The air stagnates
and collects irritants
like mosquitoes who itch
to taste human blood.
I scratch at nothing.

I am brittle and broken--
in need of moisture.
I wilt, stooped slightly,
as the heat gains strength.
There is no bloom in me today.

Night Light

The stars have always been
my personal night light. I
never admit to phobias--
but after dark, I question
the creaks and cracks
of every moment of every night.

I clutch my blankets
to my chin and protect
my body from boogie-man hands.
My closet door is tightly shut
with any goblins locked in
away from my sleeping berth.

The twinkle in the sky
keeps me company as crickets
play beneath my windows.
Clouds will cut off my light;
I shiver against deamons then.
No flashlight needed tonight.

December Snow

A white fortress protects Juno
from the onslaught of snowballs.
Shoulder deep in icy elation,
he watches the kids at play.

Having eaten his fill
of crunchy water, he retreats
behind the wall of white.
The contrast increases his size.

Juno enjoys his vantage point
behind the drifted fort.
He doesn't need to be coy,
he can clear the pile much

easier than any child.
He contents himself there
until the twinge of hunger
urges him to eat more snow.

Nature at Dusk

There is just something serene
about nature at dusk.

Experience peace
as the first signs
of darkness throw
a blanket of comfort
over everything.

Capture the moment
with a lingering kiss
from the setting sun.
It winks on its descent
beneath the horizon.

Snuggle up close,
not for warmth,
but contact less alien.
Explore the channels
of the atmosphere.

Wrap yourself in clouds
as they wave the day goodbye.
Swim across the moon
on its rise to the zenith.
The night has only just begun.

Attitude

Color me sunshine.
Paint daffodils on the moon;
keep me positive.

My Brain and Poetry

As I get older and wiser,
ideas must marinate on my brain.
Your poetry, perhaps, eludes
gentle ministrations. It must
simmer in its own juices
to develop its full flavor.

Never pan fry a great poem;
like steak, let it broil
or braise to perfection.
Leave it to redistribute
else its flavorful moistness
disappears with the first bite.

Savor it; allow it to breathe.
Sip your poetry slowly
from fluted stemware. Inhale
the essence of the bouquet.
Make an occasion of it;
experience it fully.

Ugly Truths and Pretty Lies (re-write)

Ugly truths and pretty lies
slice through the rule
that was once golden.
Silence is too pricey
for the average man.

Honesty and integrity
are blemished
beyond recognition.
Once sacred, now replaced
by treachery--
they are debauched.

The bride no longer wears white;
she is raped repeatedly
of her identity. She
drapes herself in a shroud
of red—-the blood she sheds
on the road from envy, yours.

Technology favors no one.
Data access is evolving,
only to be exploited
by the greedy, the needy,
and the adventurous.
Protect yours alone.

Candyland Continued

I want to follow the Milky Way
to the Almond Joy of my life.
I'll shake my Tootsie Rolls
at your Payday any day.
Make me scream "Oh, Henry!"
even if you are Baby Ruth.

Be my Sugar Daddy and give me
your Malted Milk Balls.
I have only one Mounds
my Bit 'o Honey needs
to get Good & Plenty.
Show me the Big Hunk you are.

He Chuckles when Mike and Ike
put in an appearance. My Wax
Lips leaves him Chunky for more.
He knew I had the Red Hots
for him but my Butterfingers
always got the best of me.