Personal Space

We move along from place to place

Inhabiting a personal space

With pockets filled, easing transition

Smoothing the passage through our missions

That in the end will guarantee

A bit of dust and nought to see

Nothing but random cosmic  trace

Of our unique trajectory

We flow like rivers, point to point

The minutes tickle hands of time

From house to school to work and then

We set the clock back over again

And wind the children up to spend

Their days in ways of wise pretend

Where did we come from, why and when

Why did our world begin and end?

And when our sand has run its course

And when we‘ve had our last discourse

We’ll sleep in linens wove of ground

And make no bones, and scream no sound

And do no good and drink no wine

And no one knows the day or time

Be Proud Within

Many times I’ve wanted to express

Often I’ve longed to say

Silently I tried to confess

How proud I am of you today

For quiet reasons, I’ve held back

I’m mum on what the situation requires

It’s not for any lack

Of feeling or desires

Others seldom know the real you

The pride within can only hit the spot

For the outside world’s review

Is never really what you’ve got

Though it fills your heart with pride

It’s not as true as the inner voice

The one with which you go in stride

The one that doesn’t give a choice

Which needs to be convinced

Of his inherent value and worth

Even if each day no words are minced

To offer numerous examples of both

Be proud within

Shine like the morning sun rising

Feel happy in your own skin

The goal you reached is not surprising

You possess whatever it took

You impress with the right stuff

That if you take a long, hard look

You arrived, though it was tough

If upon targets you set your sight

If upon distant stars you pray

You’ll arrive, one day or night

Your inner pride will show the way

Pothole Monsters

At long last snows have melted

Thin ice has ebbed away

As suddenly as they descended

They disappeared one day

And what remained on streets in town

And what loomed large, I found

Were craters in the crumbled earth

On highways all around

They bumped my engine, jostling me

And rattled axle’s steel

Threatening to swallow car and all

in a gulp of metal meal

Like snakes devouring their snacks

Like sinkholes in tropical climes

They pocked the roads and pooled the rain

And dotted miles of slime

If I’m not careful at the wheel

I may fall out of groove

sticking in the gravelled underbelly

Of streets which lost their smooth

If I’m not steady at the helm

But sway from side to side

I may be taken from my place

For much more than a ride

I’ll stay alert when seasons turn

but winter lingers on

watch out for pothole monsters

Feasting in the early dawn

I’ll not get swallowed in the mist

Steer clear of a small lagoon

Will not fall prey to earthy pits

Where I won’t be found till June!

Used Tissue

All I have ever done, all I have ever been

Is just a used tissue, a toilet paper spreading thin

Rolled out over months, perforated, cut in pieces

Pulled apart, then crumpled, when usefulness ceases

A softness sought to hold, to wipe away the seed

To dab your eyes and nose and clear a throat when you had need

To wipe your brow when come and going got too tough

To then dispose of, when you had enough

That’s all I ever was, that’s all I’ll ever be

No one will ever long for another wipe of dampened me

No one will ever yearn for my forgotten fluffiness

The world does not remember feeling, of my sweet caress

It turns away, as night turns into day

And wipes its nose in other clothes, that come what may

Edward Hopper at the Whitney

Edward Hopper and his peers have conquered the Whitney Museum
if you want to walk through the 20th Century, take the time to go to see ‘em
Escape into the interplay of canvassed darkness and light
as they fall on urban landscapes of the lonely day and night
Be a spectator in the Sheridan Theater (1937) of the human condition
As it passes from the pastoral to the brick and mortar vision
Rise up with the starkly naked “Woman in the Sun”
as she stands amidst the Cape Cod dunes, painted 1961
Wake up to Seven A.M. (1948) exuding shadow and radiant
light reflecting from the sterile storefront on the forest’s somber gradient
Hop on the Railroad Sunset (1929) a study in melting hues
Where blue sky fades to yellow, orange, red, green mountain views
Get encircled by the geometry of Cape Cod Sunset (1934), Mass.
Where shades of sky over desolate house are echoed in the grass
Become a voyeur through Night Windows (1928) where the triptych’s hidden scene
of blowing drape and bending form pull and push the mystery seen
Stroll down Early Sunday Morning (1930) where the crowds have gone, forgetting
Vacant city, empty lives in the chiaroscuro setting
Stop at Le Bistro (1909) for a drink on the bank of the Seine
Flowing under the whitewashed bridge, devoid of boats or men
In Soir Bleu (1914) the French faces happily appear
A worker, clown, prostitute, sliced of society captured here
If winter’s chill has kept you home, view the abstract in the specific spectacular
Let Hopper show you how Modern Life transformed our urban vernacular

Domain

 

My friends complain

Of all the downsides of domain

Children they once brought forth in pride and pain

Have turned into a blessing and a stain

And all the energy they expend in vain

Seems to evaporate like soup, bubbling on their stove

They simmer, spin in circles trying to recreate

That drying glue that held them once together they called love

They do not realize

They have to cook the stew each day, all over again

Instead of brewing, brooding, steaming, seething to complain

They have to stir it even harder, even smarter to remain

Complementary ingredients flavoring the family broth, so plain

To see the only thing that’s needed is some growing with the grain

To stay inside the circle that they sketched on their domestic plane

and draw upon their strengths; from boiling over to refrain

They need to listen

need to understand

to hold each others’ hand

to sow and tend and reap together in the sun and rain

the shifting scenes of seasons to withstand

to celebrate anew what keeps them smiling, sound and sane

Meeting of Minds

A meeting of minds

A baring of souls

What makes our world go round?

What shapes our daily goals?

rebuilding broken bridges

Crossing the great divide

Having something warm to share

And nothing more to hide

Old stories are renewed

Friends remembered, reunited

We can be critical or crude

And deal distractingly delighted

We trace unique uncommon scripts

Mouth the familiar parts we know

And the tunes we haven’t heard yet…

We’ll discover how they go

We will fill in all the blanks

And lightly learn to tread

So that our lines converge

on visions in our head

Trust is the only currency

Belief, a gift to extend

support, our mutual investment

Enriching time we spend

Attracting opposite poles

Connecting waves apart

Digging for common ground

To bury habits of the heart

Linking our solo journeys

to ease the road we roam

Joining hands on paths less travelled by

To find the way back home

Eclipse of Friends

On a day when earth’s shadow obscures the moon
We gather to celebrate, none too soon
two December women who play in tune
to the strains of winter wind and autumn swoon

They derive inspiration from those in need
Of a helping hand or a thoughtful feed
And their minds are open to the downtrodden breed
Whose lives are enlightened by their word and deed

On a day when celestial bodies are obscured
We affirm the earthly, two souls who poured
Their hearts into listening to the scarred and sick
Who hear complicated rhythms that make others tick

Don’t Know

Don’t know what to do
With all the longing in my shoe
I guess I’ll put my shoe away
And try to be, and try to stay

Don’t know what to say
The words won’t come out anyway
I guess I’ll put the words away
And try to write another day

Don’t know what to think
With sudden silence in this link
I guess I’ll tuck my mind away
I’ll try to keep my thoughts at bay

I guess I’m stuck, so come what may
I’ll try to find another way
And try to write another day
The same old nothings that I say

Don’t know, don’t go away

The shades of meaning turn to gray

I guess I’ll put my yearn on STAY

And try to learn another day

Falling

Season of lost leaves, season of renewal

Take the reds and golds and browns and

          make yourself a jewel

Be strong against the winter wind

Stay warm amid the frost

For a year of deeper happiness waits

To replace the one you’ve lost

Write a fun-filled chapter

In your journal of experience

Make the parallel lines converge

In spite of storms of interference