Hyperion hovered over Esther’s bruised needs, As Brutus sank on weakened knees. As tender nature reclined passively by, As overwrought Hercules roared through the sky. Let’s rise above indolence; rise over the rest. Let mercy’s rain wash through quivering nests. Let righteous anger sweep through darkened caves. Let icy steel hands of justice pave way, To the glorious wand of an awakening day.
Category Archives: Poetry
Love and Love
Why am I not surprised, That birds will not take the time, To consider the difference between, What birds call love and love. The differences are immense, Music and color agree. But you set forth, in one great leap, Abandoning love in a stone cold heap.
Two Mergers
The merger was priced too high.
Synergies unrealized.
Social issues bred divisions.
Leveraged dividends were declared.
Someone was left, holding the bag.
While two souls merged.
With sparsely conducted diligence.
A note shared, here and there:
Books opened, forecasts of aspiration clung together upon revelation.
Physics tells us: energy cannot be created.
Kinetic, potential, elastic, thermal.
Radiant love tells otherwise.
Let energies simmer to love’s stirring rhythms.
As merged souls sing passionately glorious hymns.
Rise Up to Better the Best
Vibrations of softly spoken stories of connivance surround us;
In tandem with expanding clouds in descent; as grayness claims proclamations of black and white; and darkness replaces tomorrow and yesterday.
Leaders follow treachery to their own salvations; Prime Ministers and Presidents double-down as the law creeps too close. Closer and closer. Until a snake elects to chew an empty carcass. Signals sent. Talons dipped in darkened blood. No light to darken any more.
Clouds descend; from our left, from our right. Yes, the worst are full of passionate intensity. And if I am among the best, then where is my conviction?
Let hunger’s scream shock daylight’s light; let us call forth youth’s ennobling might.
Let leadership’s mantle come to rest, on those few among us who are better than best.
Poet to Poet
I have crossed the bridge,
Leaving yesterday behind,
A barren start to an unformed day.
The moon’s soft song
Is making me drowsy.
And your poem will be my pillow for the night.
A Poem Composed on November 1, 2018
When I doubt my doubts and my convictions too,
When all beliefs seem equally true,
When scholars quarrel over mysteries,
Loudly indignant of my uncertainty.
When pious priests bedecked in jewels
And clashing atheists brand me a fool,
When my spirits sag and refuse to soar
And all around claim more and more.
Then I shall find comfort within your inviting breast
And leave quarrels to others while I quietly rest.
Poem Inspired by Friendship Renewed
The corner store still stands.
Shelves of memories from unordered years.
The corner store still stands.
The years have grown its stock.
The corner store still stands.
But now reclines in autumn’s nest,
While wind and thoughts come to rest.
Author’s Note: composed while walking to work.
In Search of Wallace Stevens
Who can express receipt in loss, and loss in receipt? What has been lost remains: but for me, it is missing. And yet, the receipt brings discovery. But the loss remains and sorrow is its companion.
Composed on June 23, 2017
Prayer and Belief
And so he prayed,
And could not believe,
And through prayer, found sustenance.
And so he prayed,
And came to believe,
And prayed to his belief,
And became intolerant.
Poetic Whispers
The artist can appreciate, in his soul, what Frye captures: “There is [a] reason why criticism has to exist. Criticism can talk, and all the arts are dumb.” Northrup Frye.
Can the same artist appreciate Sontag: “The interpreter, without actually erasing or rewriting the text, is altering it. But he can’t admit to doing this. He claims to be only making it intelligible, by disclosing its true meaning.” Susan Sontag.
Poetic whispers. Murmurs.