between night and day

sinuously the day comes as
the night departs miraculously
as the earth revolves as if
all was planned for us to sleep
to wake

and too

the scent of night is discernibly

different than that of the day
underneath the stars and moon
the smell of wet dew evince and form
atop the grasses and the petals on flora

and too

if one puts their ear to the silence

in the quiet in the dark one can hear
crinkling leaves and bowing blades of grass
under the weight of dew and the many
tiny tapping sounds of drops can be heard
falling from upper petals onto the lower ones

and too

the tiny feet and excavating mandibles

of little nibbles from earthbound critters
living a nocturnal life immersing  in
Nature’s sensorial waft from  
the composition of the floral eatery

and too

as the moon and tired glittery night

begins its dissent to rest letting the
sun awaken and the breath of yawning
flora and fauna arise to entertain
the day gives way the sleepy night
as the earth turns upon its axis
to beget the day

 

 

 

 

 

escape

when my footsteps have slowed nearing

the end of my stroll on the path i’ve chosen
having smelled the sassafras and the pine
eaten the wild berries and cherries
my heart has beaten in sync with love
and my eyes have shed the tears lamenting
the departure of joy

i want to hear the sound of a running brook

o’er limbs and stones
rustling leaves on trees from the breeze
and the songbirds singing later ascending to leave
their silhouettes pressed against the clouds that
soar across a now softly painted crimson sky

i wish to sit and watch the dusk roll in quietly

then hear crickets and cicadas begin their
chirping attending in their celebration until
the veil of darkness descends to visit with
the hoot of the owl and the whispering, settling
of night and the nocturnal calm arrives

my head tilts upward to gaze at tiny pin holes of light

dancing about in darken space of the sky and
a lunar smile looks down upon the cricket and the owl
whilst my eyes begin their slumber and
all else sleeps   

 

 

 

disheartened

my consciousness, my heart, my soul, is being melded
much to my disdain, against my conscious freedom of choice
by the stench of violence being perpetrated upon each other

we are angry, we are hating, we are no longer giving

value to life, to caring, to mother earth

all around those with power to make change are doing it

with destruction in their minds, in their hearts

i cry and sadness avails my soul when i wish to be joyful

because my heart aches, because my being is bombarded
by the destructive actions of man upon man and so
my 'being' reacts to this, not of my choice

if i isolate myself, insulate from what is happening around me,

i may experience temporary contentment but then, in
introspection, i wonder if my worth as a living being is of value

for now, i shall listen to music, i shall hear the whispering wind

outside my window and i shall gather my pup in my arms
kiss my love of life on her cheek while she sleeps
and hold them tight for at least this night

bluebirds at dawn

in the dawn bluebirds sing

and the rain filled clouds afford

the day a full display of their

magic colored scarves with

the helping fingers of the sun

 

i know somewhere for some

this rainbow is not within view

but only the dark clouds and storms

and for them no bluebirds can be

heard, no dawning of a dream

 

i can only hope that the universe in its

chaos and tumult will bring balance

so that those in the dark will lay their heads

to sleep and someday they’ll awaken

to songbirds, witness a rainbow in the light

of dawn giving rest to the storm

 

given it my best

laid my body at the end of day

tossed and turned could not rest
eyes closed they would not stay
the mind fussed about, still at play

an unusual darkness laid heavy on my soul

would not let me sleep, a heavy toll
my heart beat at a quicker pace
my breath waned, not, from the diurnal race

earlier in the day i had walked underneath

the clouds that made the sunlight grey
causing shadows of lilacs and lilies
look as if they were bending down to pray

and when the soft breeze blew by

gathered from the ocean and the sky
i felt the soul and spirit of life
cleansing me,  a moment free of strife

the days, now, seem to come and go so quickly

never enough time to mingle with the trees,
listen to the wind rustle its leaves or observe
the mountains shadows cast from moon beams
jiggling and dancing in the seas

i’m distracted by the staring eyes filled with

pain and angst from the hungry bellies
of humans cast aside, the forests burning
in the night, the earth no longer hides its anger 

and so when i lay my head to rest
i reflect upon my day accepting what
i can and cannot affect, only hope
to those i care for, those i love,
i've given nothing less than my best

life is a short dream

the wind blows in sounds of fury, whirling

and squealing like steel wheels noisily

rolling o'er iron train track rails, filling all
sentient space and the cracking, rustling
sounds heard from the crying flora
that lay down folding under pressure

and it leaves a path of scorn and pain
where it has stepped upon while the ominous

sclerotic spine of dirty grey can be
seen now roaring away

and as i awake from my night’s dreams

and sit longingly wondering if when
i look outside the window near where i lay
will the view be one of a fallowed land
or will all be okay

i realize, then, that it was but a journey in

my sleep where my life was in display,
transformed into a torrent of a storm
as it, so quickly, has come and gone 
so i sit here, eyes peering right and left
left and right until once again the day
gives way to the night

*inspired by Polish Nobel Laureate Wislawa Szymborska's poem; Life While-You-Wait

   made reference by an acquaintance and fine author, Katherine Eliska Kimbriel

el corazon no tiene color

el corazon duele cuando entienden casi nada

(the heart hurts when there’s little understanding)

the dark of night replaces the light of day

but never in a negative way
it arrives so that all can sleep and rest
to energize the play of the following day
black of night is enmeshed with color
white is devoid of it more of pallor

both coexist

one does not upend the other
white is in black and black has white
neither dominate nor does
one supersede the other

i see a twinkle in the eye of night

and the brightness in the light of day
both are filled with joy for it is spoken
by the wolf howling in the dusk
the owl hoot and cricket chirp of night
and then birds sing to awaken the sun
thanking the night for letting them sleep

night coexists with day so let us

both white and those of us of color
hold hands and show the universe
we are in sync with its synchrony

 

vulnerable

i look deep into the eyes of a vulnerable soul

as she stands before me with her blue grays
her one hand touches her quivering cheek
while her other one by her side trembles
as she stares out at the world before her

she has a slight of smile not giving a full one

for fear of having the world take it from her
and when she sees me looking  at her eyes
they begin to tear for she knows i can
hear her crying inside from pain and loss

her remembered days of yore unravel when she

sees i am looking deep inside her soul where angst
of loneliness and loss reside and her heart beats
like a captured bird’s does cupped in a hand and
little room seems left for salvaging her unrest

but then as i smile at her and extend my arms

she expires a sigh in relief and takes my hand
trusting that i am there to assuage her burden,
to fill the void as i tell her that i love her and
i hold her close to show her that i care

i tell her she won’t be alone and the emptiness

as her breath is slowly siphoned out as two souls
depart from the space of her world and like
a basin full of water and a cup of it is removed
it does not leave a hole although the basin now
holds less it remembers and adjusts and birds
still come play and bathe    

 

tiny sail boats out to sea

Oh, let us walk hand in hand without haste

into the dusk and then into the stars of night
after doting, through the sun lit day, at peddles
fallen from trees dancing in the breeze
as they gently move about like tiny sail boats
on the ripples of an emerging spring

let the silence from our lips speak of our hearts’

beating to the joy of their rhythm as they listen
to the songs of the feathered residents wandering
about with us knowing we had come to see them
play in their abode while serenading us through the day

for I know that your heart laments of soon

departing souls from the tethers of this world
for they have walked days and nights together
like we just did but many more than we are old
so let them sail on those tiny sail boats out to sea
with love and holding hands to where the sky rides
on the oceans's tide, too soon to be, also, you and me

 

 

*dedicated to my wife’s lamenting heart for her mom and dad,
  sixty six years together and in love, both soon to sail their boat
  out to sea, possibly together

 

learning to love

do i care the way i should, the way i can

and is the object of my caring affected
by the giving of myself not in the way
i wish them to but in the way that
affects them best, selflessly

when i whistle and a cardinal whistles

it responds because of my whistling
i understand not what i whistle
but try to replicate its tone and riff
and surely the cardinal when it whistles
back, it's speaking or singing a song to me

when i stand beside the great cherry tree

in my back yard i respect its stature
and its wisdom and i wonder if it
recognizes me, standing there, admiring
its expanding and stretching of its arms upward
trying to touch the strolling clouds

i know when i caress my two pups and stroke

them with a tenderness of care while whispering
in their ear of how their unconditional love affects
me, i tell them how they touch my heart and
the spirit of my soul and so they look up at me,
kiss me with their tiny tongues upon my chin

at this time, my dawning years, still i try to understand

of love, in all its forms, so that when i tell you
‘i love you’, you’ll understand from whence it
comes, it's not just of my heart but from the bones
of my bones, blood of my blood, the depth
of my soul and when i speak these words to you
you’ll want to whistle then raise your arms up to try
and touch the clouds and you’ll kiss my cheek

live

the sun is crisp in all its yellow and warmth today
birds are playing in air wildly, joyfully
chipmunks are vociferously chirping with heraldry
a pileated woodpecker is knocking and knocking
anomalous black and purple iris’ petals on display

i sit outside with my aging boy, jules, on my lap gently

stroking his brow and with every stroke his paws curl
on occasion he lifts up and licks my cheek
he knows i love him and  that soon we both shall sleep
my girl, jaz, lies curled up at my feet

we sit here waiting for my wife to come back home

she’s been visiting her elderly parents in total care
too many miles away. i’m sure she will want to sit here
with us when she arrives and she will also need gentle strokes

i read today a friend of mine is lamenting a loss of a buddy

repeatedly he posts…death sucks, death sucks, it really sucks
then another post i read  is about this young lady relaying her
acceptance to the end of ‘sheloshim (Judaism)…first thirty
days of intense mourning’. lost her husband too young

life is about this moment; the here and now

a rabbi’s prayer: “don’t let me die while I’m still alive”

 

*for imaginary garden~includes the senses of vision, sound, touch and emotion

alone but loved

alone i am

my morning spring has come and gone
have played in summer’s sunny days 
now the dusk of autumn fills my eyes
but yet still much to get done and say

soon winter’s night will come and cool my

hands and feet and i shall see my breath
leave my once hardy lungs and the warmth
of my body shall release my soul it will
wander on into the embrace of that spirit
where souls go home

if in my life’s sojourn i will have touched

even a shadow of someone’s soul
and left a heartfelt tear or smile of joy
then this memory of me shall be the spirit
of my ‘being’ carrying on

lament is not to be of being alone

for the universal spirit of the soul is ‘one’
it is the mundane incarnate shell that stands alone
not recognizing this or the bond of love
is a lonely heart song

love perpetuates mamasita in my heart

so too, for my canine kids but most cherished
is ‘she’ who has shared all the joy of my love
although alone i may be, never have I felt
unloved or lonely with her standing near me

 

       dedicated to my partner and i celebrating our eighth wedding anniversary this Sunday

       we have been partners, though, for twenty eight  years

let the music play

when it’s time to sleep and all your daytime reveries

have been gathered in that cavern of your mind
be calm be silent and let them run amok for that is
how they arrived and wish to be set free as dreams

the universes’ synthesis and constancy is chaos

in this flux it has lived much longer than us
and gathered such wonderment in its dissonance
for it knows so many more secrets than we do

when the wind blows it does so in swirls and straight lines

in all directions without seemingly in rhythm or sync
and when the leaves sway in its grasp they dance and jitter
without step as do the ripple and waves of the sea

and if we listen carefully to the trickle of raindrops and

know that no snowflake is the same we then recognize
that all is unique in its makeup from dusk to dawn
let the universe music play as it may for it is what makes
the night, the day

 

 

 

• for poets united; midweek motif: happiness is accepting all life gives you and puting it in perspective

Life is precious

hate and prejudice have been on a wanton killing spree

a callousnessness of discontent comes and without
consideration a soul is eviscerated from its incarnate
being and so uncaring of the human emotional toll

where does the mind reside who cares little of

the lily, the daisy, the red begonia that it tramples
on or the innocence of life that is disemboweled
from a day of sun or nights starry sky

when a pain is so excruciating that it envelops the heart

it seems to feed a wanting to eliminate its surroundings
with non-discretionary imposing of torture without
regard for the anguish and pain it imparts upon other life

my mind, my heart, my soul does not comprehend

such mindless, soulless, heartless pronouncements or
actions that seem to be assailing the inherent nature
of being and the value of love in the world of today

i cry unselfishly for our children, for the forests,

for the oceans, for the free feather fliers, our terrestrial
friends needing to endure man’s carelessness
and so I hoot with the owl at night and squeal with the
whale and chirp with the dolphin, trumpet with elephants,
roar with the lions, whistle and tweet with the birds,
soar in awe with the eagle and howl with the wolf.   

 

face of aridity

in the face of all aridity and as the storms

now arrive at the behest of human unkind hands
the sunlight is bathed in grey, not from mist or clouds
the ocean waves boil with refuse as the smog haze air
turns days into nights much too early and our winged
friends refuse to fly o’er land that is care deprived 

so too, not till dusk, do terrestrials come out to play
for they are cautious of man’s scorched earth
where the winds no longer carry fresh breath of air
nor do they sway barren trees to dance anymore   

 

we, the caretakers, must awaken and lift up

from that pillow cover of mire where our heads have
rested upon for so long in a darken room of residence,
extricating ourselves, convinced  we’ve had no hand
in Earth’s laboring last breaths as we go to sleep
in denial but in ignorance and silence, we are complicit.

 

carefully, we must undress Mother Nature’s attire

to wash and rinse out the grime laden dress into which we’ve
clothed her and hang to dry and breathe her azure chemise with
white cotton sleeves and too, her pastoral skirt that will once again
sway in joyous winds and breezes where gossamer and feather wings
will once again fly and play

dia de mamasita

suns and moons have passed, it seems not so long ago

when mamasita to her maker was called home.

she needed her rest from a life that treated her with scorn

yet in spite of all her pathways aligned with thorns

she gave of kindness to those she thought more forlorn

her mellifluous singing voice would begin our day

and from just outside an open kitchen window birds

perched on a limb in a tree, she’d sing to them

and for a moment they would cease their chirping, 

their whistling and listen to 'Mamasita' sing for them

her voice still resounds  with solemnity in my soul,

memorable moments in my mind, her undiminished

love fills every chamber of my heart and for this gift  

i thank her not just because it’s 'Dia de las Madres'

but i think she knows that every morning i awaken

there's a picture of her on my mantle looking back at me

reminding me of the heart from whence and where i came

a moment with breath

i walk many a dawn until the dusk comes on

wondering what path now my steps may take

and what will these footings tell me

another sunrise ascends into the day and

another starry night and moon kissies mine eyes

aware that the translucence of light is now fuzzy

like light fusing through rain drops on eye lenses

objects farther than an arms length away are opaque

but still clearly i can hear the rustling about

as squirrels and chipmunks chase one another

and the robins, cardinals and sparrows sing to each other

and the scent of the cherry blossoms, red and yellow roses,

conifers and mint fill the air as my heart beats of joy

i sit on a bench in the presence of Nature’s gift

next to the love of my life as she holds my hand and although

without knowing of wherefore my next step shall avail 

 i embrace this; a moment with breath

mingle

so anguished is a heart

that has been devoid of
love or is unrequited or
one that has been scorned

so bloated with tears is a heart

that through departure it has lost
the soul and shared blood of one
who once ran through its veins

flowers and trees mingle with

birds and clouds with the sky
and rivers are fed from the rains
thus let play the fish in the oceans

the worms and rodents build castles

in the earth while other reptiles and
mammals carry about as they co-mingle
underneath the Sun and Moon

all is well when play and care is shared

then hearts are fond and the winds carry
this joy throughout so if one sees a
heart that aches, mingle with and thus
this shall be reciprocated

“the fountains mingle with the rivers

the rivers with the oceans, the winds
of heaven mix forever with a sweet emotion,
nothing in this world is single all things
by a law divine, into one another’s being mingle
why not i with thine?”
                           P.B. Shelley