Reading Tea Leaves

As I sip my tea
at the bottom of the cup
are tea leaves
I try to read them
but I cannot interpret
I run my finger tips on the veins
of their skin trying to feel
the life that runs through them
assimilating with the life in mine
thinking I might feel something
yet left still with an emptiness
I stand up to inhale the
the breath of life around me
wondering if this will
sate my sensorial vats
the vacuum that surrounds me,
thinking it will explain to me
my relevance, fill me
with knowledge and understanding
of why I’m here and how does this space
I'm filling where I stand affects that
which came before me and
how it will affect he or she
that will soon replace me
when I’m gone?
I stand here alone,
breathing in, wondering

a leaf moment

Once its veins full with chlorophyll
holding strong on it’s limb
the beating rain tickles
on its belly and dances
in its glittering gown
grasps tightly to the limbs hand
against the swales of wind
and winged giants come
and sit upon its chest
yet it holds on and flutters
and waves when its feathered
friend flies onto another
the warm and sometimes
hot sun scorches its face
but soon the coolness of the moon
lets it sleep quietly
and in the morning comes
another frenzied day

Now rusted and weak
a soft breeze catches its cheek
it lets go of its once strong hold
silently it floats down and rests
upon the lap of sinuous
grasses that for whom it once
provided shade and now it lays
its furled body on a golden field
that wears miniature rainbows
from a morning dew
sleeping now in unrequited attention
with a smile on its crested face
its fulfilled the cycle of life
now food for Mother earth
no less important than
the caterpillar and butterfly
I understand and praise
its short sojourn

Stillness

Stillness, how loud it is
its quiet screams of yesteryears
while hovering over joy yet
embraces desolate space
where pain resides and tears
flow like rapids in deep rivers

Stillness forces time to slow
yet aging is in the forefront
and the eyes when not closed
see the dark spots on the hands
between the crevices of life’s folds
the aches of labored past reside
when planting beds with mother and
now they grow where she rests

Stillness, it coddles love’s caress
where moments of gentle kiss
and warm breast pressed upon
my chest and her softness tantalizes
my finger tips as she screams
in loving yet lustful pleasure
when they tiptoe between her hips

Stillness lets music pleasure my ears
listening to songs from crooners in my day
and reminiscent melodies that inspired
my choice and desire to live when
all around me was destruction, pillage and death
losing faith in humankind

Stillness has found its abode
within me today for I choose to listen
to its praise hearing the birds sing,
seeing this mornings sun rise
while Jules and Jaz lay at my feet,
grateful, I awoke from my last night's sleep

I Hearken Stillness

The stillness is calming
the clouds have slowed their pace
the sun has not yet
shut its eyes
but the moon is ironically
yawning for its awakening

The days wet heat has begun
to succumb to the breath of
the evening air and the songs
of crickets and cicadas
have replaced the harmonies
of the wren, the cardinal and the blue jay

The white cotton patches slithering up high
have begun to reflect a crimson rouge
from the suns sleepy eyes
and the day has become
the evening where it lies back
and it rests

The calm is ethereal unlike
not too far from here
an angry Nature’s wrath has
woven an ugly arboreal
display upon earth’s chest

A State of Mind

Three weeks have passed and so to
have three friends and acquaintances
ne’r since 1971 have I shown up for these
traditional ’howling’ exercises seemingly
consoling those who have not departed

Not insensitive nor wanting to be
a downer but I wish to remember
these interlopers into my life
as fond human exchanges of faces
with smiles and not stuffed encases

But they come and they go
so quickly down my road
some say hi and stay awhile
and some just prick me with
their style and their smile

Mortality has poked me
with its long dark staff as I
observe those with saddened tears
of anguish and loss, dressed in
their own destined attire

Unlike most, instead of ‘folding within
like a flower sleeping at the end
of it’s season’ this refreshes my cognition,
regenerates my verve, awakens me
like that flower ’ leaving a little room
to start again’.

So when my eyes’ turn to close
let me go gently in the night
and I wish for you to sleep
knowing in the morning
awaits you a new sunrise

‘youth is wasted on the young’

Como un lobo

‘Como un lobo‘, I walk quietly
carefully, strolling so as not to disturb
life that seeks refuge from underneath
my every step

My ears are perked to be keen
for every sound that may
want to speak to me
sharing with me its own journey

In this sojourn I gather nuts
consume that which nature
provides just for sustenance
and go about my path

I stop in clearings
observe the path I’ve walked
and the journey before me
then I saunter on

Sometimes I go off road
but it matters not for whatever
path and steps I take
it is the path destined to me

From where I’ve been I’ve gathered
things that I like and those which I love,
many which I wish to keep, to hoard,
thinking they belong to me

Introspection, I recognize that when I started
on this path I had only what is 'me'
nothing less and nothing more
just my ears, my eyes, my heart

I howl at the moon, at the stars
for the light they’ve provided me
yet I lament for those things I’ve loved
but cannot take with me

I’ve now learned to walk at a slower pace
so that time does not rush me
and I take pleasure for that which
my eyes have seen, my ears have heard
my heart has shared, I howl

Sedentary Eyes

Erstwhile the numbers have grown
in the days and years behind me
the keenness of my attention
to every moment and every
sunrise and sunset has been honed
by the wind and sand not unlike
the promontories on sea shores
having seen much while hailing the winds
and have been relentlessly accosted
by the ocean’s slappings from ebbs and flows

But seemingly stable standing on shore
sedimentary accrues being sedentary,
it has no choice. I, though,
do have a choice as I capture
visions that pull the threads
of my passions, tug the strings of my heart,
displaying the weakness of my conviction
to convention of social norms, traditions
and morals, whilst my eyes pleasure in
the diversity of beauty, I fear shutting
them for they may not open again

Circus Mirror

Lamenting, I recall on what I saw today
in the reflection of the stores glass display
t’was my aging deteriorating
now paunchy carcass that encases
my life’s unrequited heart in place
while it dances with it’s shadow, my soul

It saddened me and also scared me
how could this be me when my mind,
my thoughts still ride the young pony
amidst childhood fields of wind blown
grasses and daffodils, pretty ladies
in their summer dresses
for my still youthful eyes to behold

Not often do I see myself this way
through someone else’s eyes
I know my aches my pains
now halt my running with the deer
or chasing after wondrous butterflies
yet still I see myself through my wife’s
loving eyes and not the reflection
that I recall of what must have been
a circus mirror in the store’s display

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Alone, Sonata no. 1

Although the day has been
wonderfully full of the suns touch
the flapping and scurrying
of life all around me outside
gives me joy yet I’m anguished
of the humans around me
seemingly not Caring for each other

Tonight my sleep is restless
seems darker, absent of space
I look around and witness
that I’m in my domicile
yet I feel empty of presence
unrecognized by that which
surrounds me

My chest, not a ‘Tell Tale Heart‘,
feels a dull constant ache
my left kidney a sharp stabbing
the ticking of the clock above
my recliner where I sleep
is relentlessly reminding me of time

Music is present in my ears
Ah, Ludwig and Amadeus
sprinkle into my ears, piano sonata no.1
so soothing, calming my angst
in the absence of self
the soft tickling keys a reminder
of self cognition in this realm
of lonely recognition

The Smile of Spring Rain

the rain that falls from the sky
it can not change it’s mind
once it begins it’s dissent
it must reach it’s destination
whether it falls atop a mountain
or on leaves of trees
or back in the mother sea
these rain drops do not speak
of what ocean they come from
nor where their spirit goes
once they cleanse all that they touch
if only they could whisper their secrets
of how their journey began
and how it feels when riding the wind
while in the world of Spring where upon
the pedals of daisies and daffodils
roses and lilies they put glistening smiles
for all to see

No Laughter in Houla

Laughter what is it worth
if it does not ride the eternal tide of joy

What is calm and contentment worth
if they are not sated by the taste
of universal peace

In Houla, tiny toads cannot be heard croaking
after a refreshing early morning rain
by the tiny ears of buried carcasses

Avian songs cannot be heard
from the raining of hell bombs falling
on Syrian streets by Bashar Asaad’s regime

This morning, here, we will watch
tiny earth worms crawling out
after a much needed rain

hearing a choir of our friends
in joyous song in our early morning rise,
morph voices, the children of Houla

Love Me When I'm Gone

Run run
Walk walk
Stop and stare
Wonder how will I end
Where shall I be
When my time ends
But will those that knew me
Hold me still


If I love enough
Shall my memory live on
In the eyes, in the ears, in the heart
Where shall I sit
Whose ears shall hear my song
When I’m gone
Whose eyes shall read my words
Will I someday make someone’s heart cry

Love love that’s all I can do
This is all I can give
Will you remember me
Sometime
Somewhere
Will you hear my whispers
Wipe away my tears
Spread your arms
Spread your legs for me
Love me when I’m gone

Dia de Mamasita

The other day I read a heartfelt story
about a mother who’s struggle
rendered her to the pandering
of a society who diminishes
her gender let alone her ethnicity

She held her own through the days
of toil searching for sustenance
for herself and her children
and the tear filled nights
that the day had sustained
yet the fear of tomorrows comings

They took away her pride
they took away her beauty
that a young woman holds dear
but they could not take away
the love she had for her children

as she fought the haunting of aging
though sacrificing her time of her
heralded youth for the sake of her children
the tiny wrinkle webs in her face
began to harbor the days of yore
and her youthful days sent asunder

Her days were long
and her nights even longer
but throughout she can be proud
she will always be beautiful
in my eyes my heart
she will always be loved

Te amo, mi Mamasita

Destitude Eyes

There’s a destitute in mine eyes,
I’ve felt in my heart
The days of yore have come
to haunt me
The emptiness, the unfulfilled
Loved the fun
As a child not understanding
the angst or depression,
not knowing love
only capturing the moment's
journey and its effects of
temporary joy or the pain
of falling scraping my hands
on the concrete pavement while playing
I recall, so poignantly, laying in bed
with the lights off, crying
I didn’t know why my tears
incessantly flowed but I
cried and cried and cried
I wanted so much to be loved but
I didn’t know if I had or have been
or I have loved. The days and years
have gone by so quickly without
enough embraces, enough hugs
I'm thinking it’s from my childhood
wishes, now in reflection, for how
I felt so much emptiness when
others always seem to have so much
Then as I grew older and more
was made available to me
I squandered the riches provided only
because all I now wanted was to have fun
Fun that I didn’t have when younger
I squandered my moments with family,
moments with friends just so
I could go and have fun
Never though did this fun fill that
emptiness, that loneliness,
that feeling of being alone
As time pressed on, money, sex, cars
drink, food, all these things couldn’t fill the void
and still, they don’t. I'm still trying to learn to love
to find value in my life wanting to find
something, something that’s been missing
since my childhood. Our biological father leaving
'mamasita' and us all alone. Alone before I knew
if  I would be, or could be loved

Summer's Embrace

The warm breath of a summers day
like a wet kiss embraced the day
the pedals of the flowers glistened
in prismatic joy as the sun
scurried across the veiled azure sky

Birds flocked to the bird baths
three in the back yard
two in the front wildly playing tag
from one to the other
the fountain towel hooks were full
of feathered towels as they bathed
in the fountain on my back patio

Four or five furry lucky tails tumbled
out from underneath the pine scampering
in a hop the smaller ones so much faster
then come a spray of chippies
chasing each other oh so quickly
across yards and streets as bikers
tried to avoid their array of play

and people walking their canine children
showing their new summer cuts
joggers trying to shed that winter coat
of fancied cookies and turkey sandwiches
young ladies and their pretty legs
men in cut-offs both shirts and shorts

Ah, the summer’s embrace has
wrapped its arms around the day

Space and Time

I reside in a space where
there are no walls no borders
a nebulous grey in this space
no end just the awareness
of it’s existence

in this space
reside also the colors
blue for the sky
the verdant foliage
red the blood that flows
through those that soar
and their land based cousins

We all breathe the air
and eat the berries
the sun hovers o’er
giving verve to all of us
none better than
the other

our species who reads and writes
believe that we know more
yet when we question
our knowledge relative to
the realm of the all
we realize we know little

knowledge is imagination
its the keeper of life
it creates rather than
destroys yet we're a
destructive species
so what do we know

all that exists is equal
relying on each other
our value is relative to
our co-existence
with all life

we all exist
amidst the nebulae
of black and grey
the sum of all colors
and the calculus of all

Love The One Your With

Soulful voices pervade the wind
a quiet solemnity, cogitating
the where we have been
and where we’ll soon be

Whispers hover like grey clouds,
like morning fog or the never dissipating
mist in the forest creating a sobering
portentousness, a disconcert

The morning arrives in yellow
gold horizons as a symphony of song
gives praise by an aviary choir
for one more day

Curious we wait for the fulfillment
of Proverbs, to new beginnings
of a new world by the awakening
of the old

In every voice I hear
there is an unspoken fear
that our world will end
with much regret

We didn’t care enough
we fought too much
we didn’t share enough
we didn’t love the way
we should have

If time is soon to cease
of how we know it
we still have a choice to make
of how to spend it

Will we embrace
our common good
or will we push away
the dream filled nights
the sunny days?

"eyes wide open"

Wide open, my eyes came to be
yesterday
my heart beat quickened
as if I had just ran a mile,
my breath stoking, choking
holding back 'man' tears

I noticed my friend's
long time biker gal sitting
next to a sparsely haired, frail
looking gentleman, thinking her dad,
approached her to say hi
this gentlemans's shaky hand with folds
of leathery jaundiced colored skin,
reached out and touched my arm
I  turned, I was looking into the eyes
of my friend

Just but a few months ago
he’d stand six feet three inches
two hundred and eighty pounds
he gingerly stands to hug me
he’s six foot at most while hunched
now only at one hundred and twenty and
his arms once the size of my thighs,
skeletal limbs of hanging yellow skin
embrace me, now

I was invited to support a Cancer fund raiser
unsuspecting it for my friend who but
two months ago he'd saddle a Harley ‘Fatboy’
which looked like a child’s bike strattled
between his large thighs,
a Budweiser in his hand miniturized
like a small concentrated juice can,
poignantly, a noticable slight brown stain drips
from his lip down his chin from his 'chew'
underneath his puffed lower lip

We smiled, knowingly one last hug, our eyes met
and I whispered " your God will smile on you"
I walked away, breathless, saddened,
my wife’s hand tightly in mine
knowing this donation was for him,
but the contribution of this moment
is a lasting one for so many more

Sadly Waiting

Spring arrived
with it’s glorious
sun dress

Winter became enraged
it had not packed
its vitriol reappeared

Its grey attire
veiled the sky
once again
breathing cold


My emotions
ride the sails on
high and low tides

The lovely pink
crab apple trees
cover their smiles

Until the winter grey
no longer cloud the day
we’ll sit sadly
in wait