Google+ Followers

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Never Old

So many seasons have come and gone
Tiny saplings have grown to touch the sky
The little chicks now soar
The children who I’d see playing on my street
Now have children of their own

I saw a friend of mine the other day
hair was long his skin now aged with spots
His once tall muscularity has gone away
and speaks of the forlorn life he’s got

They say that music has no age
so I’m always listening to one song
always hesitant to turn the page
the singer, though, is now gone

My peers all seem to hoard the years
hair gathers white now without the winter snow
Their stories are sad and filled with tears
seems that life has made them pay a toll

My brothers, sister all have grown
cast into the role of marriage and parent
We’ve traversed a bicultural throng
some wisdom found, our love’s inherent

I look again upon that tree whose leaves
now tickle and tease the clouds
and of my peers I look into their eyes
yet do not see the same aging of time in me.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Land of Pyramids and Kings

Poetry resides of the poignancy
on the faces scarred and scared,
Soiled faces of desert air
where they lay at night upon the
earthen terrace of their homeland

Damped in red
on the scarves wrapped
around their heads
arms and legs
in slings

Battled scars for freedom sake
a sight not gone unseen
Known to those
in our own land
in the fifties, sixties
a march with Dr King

So in our hearts
some with similar scars
we cheer those fighting
for their dream
the liberties and freedoms,
the sharing of the wealth,
not so much for the few
but for the many
and their children's health

‘You may say that I’m a dreamer
but I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
in sharing all the wealth
Imagine all the people
where all shall live as one’

"Egypt is Free"
Remember the faces
of those who gave their
lives for this.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Life's Pallet

Birth avails upon us but a short moment
upon our time allotted to harvest the fruits
of Life with means provided.
These being, our make up
consisting of nominal capacity,
inherited or genetically predisposed,
and inserted into this world to apply.

Those of us fortunate enough to realize
this which has been provided
will ascend to heights of creative utility,
sharing with this world
the unique individual wealth of talent,
integral in the tapestry of Life

In this pallet of existence
the many colors of Life
can be appreciated in total sensorium
then unselfishly and selflessly
can breath life into this awareness of beauty
onto and through our progeny

If it be our choice:
Allow chaos’s destructive characteristic
to be the nature of things
without the caring, impunity of insensitivity
Or, choose the alternative characteristic
which can be born of destruction, that being;
a rebirth of our creation of the Arts, harmony,
Love, possibly, Peace

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

The Visit

She quietly comports herself
doesn’t know that I feel her soul
I peer into her eyes
a sadden pain has welled
knowing that soon she’ll
travel many miles
to visit Mom and Dad
Maybe the last embraces
before they’re God calls upon them
to share what they've done here, now, for ninety years
Mom bowed mellifluous sounds on her violin
and taught young students for many years
He, a minister, who’s gentle hands and words
lay upon so many allaying their burdens
My wife’s gentle heart, a gift from mom,
attends to these moments of life left
with soft nurturing verve
in lieu of the pangs that feed pain and loss
As I hug her tight, my friend, my lover, my wife,
I softly whisper in her ear…
‘I Love everything about you
especially the wisdom and gentleness
that comes from your Mom and Dad’
I think she knows that I am there for her
to share life and to give it up
when we must.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Chugging Along

How does one transition
from where they’ve been
to where they’ll go
after this short stay

Seeing other’s depart
after temporarily visiting
we watch their backs
as they fade away into life’s nebulae

Reflecting on words that have been shared
the laughter and the tears
Too little time, too few the years
with those for whom we’ve cared

Here comes my train,
a  transient, I hitch up on it
and wave at my life
as we ride by

The tracks they rumble
and rattle me to the bone
I watch through the portals
of this compartmentalized abode

Witness the leaves blowing off their trees
birds flying seemingly to hover still
Mountains cover the sky behind them
while fields of gold dance in the wind

I witness the vast rolling hills
Aqua marine streams tipping white caps
kids on the embankments playing, skipping stones
All, unaware of my train passing

It runs too fast even when it chugs
I got coal dust on my face
trying to stoke the burning embers
so that the flames burn hot
and the train, ‘don’t stop’

What lies beyond
when these tracks run out
Will there be another train line 
or another means of transportation?