SECOND THOUGHTS

No second thoughts:

They only limit,

Say stop,

Promise a fall

Like a nervous parent.

They are born in fear;

They never come from God.

MOTHER RUSSIA

From deep in my marrow
With her icy blue winter and
Frozen unyielding ground
Too hard to harbor deep roots,
She cries, but I'll never call her home.

My Russian grandparents must have
Lovingly laughed with raw cheeks
Protecting a warm spot in their hearts
Thinking of their children, else
They never would have made love.

My American parents never spoke
Of a motherland so I was silent too.
Their parents' frigid past failed to melt
Leaving an unexplained thirst.
No stories of survival survived.

Yet, I am most certain they are there
In my soul's DNA. For at the symphony
When the strings strike a minor chord
Or the horns blow a dissonant sound,
I respond beyond reason.



I AM SEA GLASS - A Collection of Poetic Pieces 
(available at Amazon.com)

GOSSIP

       I

Those who gossip to you
About their brothers
Will gossip about you
When with some others.



          II

Three people
Are hurt by
The gossiper's tongue:
The fool who listened,
The one described
And the bird who sung.

SIN

                              
                               
                               In              

                               Gra

                               Tit

                               Ude

                               Is

                               The

                               Fir

                               St

                               Sin

PAINTERS RESTAURANT OASIS Cornwall-on-Hudson, NY

Here, surrounded

By warm noise

Chattering patrons

Gossiping regulars

Jazz from the City

I feel comfortable

As though home.

Even on a cloudy day

They keep the lights low

And my mind

Slows to dim.

Coffee in a sailor’s mug

Arrives at my table

As I sit down alone

With room for six.

Without offering a menu

The owner takes my order.

He calls me warmly by name

And I thank him

The same way.

I return day after day

To read, write, eat

And nourish my soul.

They know me here;

I feel love.

THE FOURTH BLOW

The sixth lesson                                                                  

Watercolor by Pat Morgan

That taught me to survive

Wasn’t any deeper

Than the previous five.

The fifth knock

That opened the door

Wasn’t any louder

Than the previous four.

The fourth blow

That split the tree

Wasn’t any harder

Than the previous three.

The third stone

That twinkled like new

Wasn’t more precious

Than the previous two.

The second effort

That got the job done

Wasn’t any greater

Than the previous one.

This last stanza

That needed to be said

Wasn’t profounder than

Those already read.

ENVY RUINS EVERYTHING

Ocean envies land

Striking it wave after wave

Washing it away

Resorting to tsunami

To soak it miles in.

Land envies mountain

Shaking it to its core

Quaking it till it falls

Loving each avalanche

It can cause.

Mountain envies sky

Blocking the light

Channeling the wind

Creating rain on one side

Desert on the other.

Sky envies ocean

Blowing hard over it

Whipping up whitecaps

Making unwilling waves

Crash against the rocks.

Ocean, Land,

Mountain, Sky

Were perfect

Before there was envy;

Envy ruined everything.

POISON AND POISE FOR GIRLS AND BOYS

Arrogance

Insolence

Living in the

Past tense

Counting cents

Taking offence

Doing what

Makes no sense

Tolerance

Horse sense

Living in the

Present tense

Silence

Repentance

Accepting

Consequence

PRUNING POETRY

              

Be ruthless

Editing is

A heartless

Task.

Poems live not

By their wits

But by

Their words.

Don’t use

Twenty

When eighteen

Will do.

Expel

Extraneous words

Until only

Heart remains.

ADAM

Born a man

Alone In Eden

With no past,

Unable to grasp

His reality:

Prickery plants,

Shapes that moved

In the shadows,

What was real

The dagger of doubt

Or the voice in his head?

Early twilight,

The light began to change,

He noticed it before

He realized it,

The shadows were gone,

Squinting no longer helped.

Something was wrong!

He could taste sweat

With his tongue,

He felt a pounding

In his chest.

Night brought on

Confusion, then panic.

He sat on the ground

Waiting.

Nothing that day

Prepared him

For the darkness.

He thought

This must be death.

Lying down he slept

For the first time.

Morning light awoke him,

Faith was born.

AN ASTRONOMER’S LOVE

She was a brilliant sunburst

Doubling the day light.

His binary partner star

Circling him forever.

A splendid supernova

Expanding his universe.

A blue-white twinkle

In his heavenly sky.
The night she drove away,

He could still see her in the distance.

ELEPHANT




Watercolor by Barry Pariser

 

There must be a reason

The giant, hulking

Elephant

Stands silently

With aching shoulders

And grey, tired eyes.

Has he seen too much?

From his lofty view

Above the tall grass

Has he taken in all

The light and loss

His world has to offer.

Has there been

Too many trumpeted calls

To fight to survive

Or maybe flee

For the sake of another tomorrow.

Now he is tired and mostly

Glad to be ignored.

Then on rare occasion

A young male stands near him

And seemingly by sheer proximity

Tries to absorb his solitary strength.

Our giant from a time long past,

Stands very still and
Simply closes his eyes.

WHERE'S ABBOTT WITHOUT COSTELLO

As open parentheses long for one to close

A thoughtful gift waits for a grateful note.

As slippers seek to cover their owner’s toes

A windy day calls for both hat and coat.

As puckered lips desire their beloved’s mouth

An unanswered sigh makes romance more remote.

As autumn makes birds yearn to fly south

A sailor stuck on land pines for his boat.

                                               

As Abbott would be lost without Costello

Costello on his own would be a cheerless fellow.

A KISS FOR SARAH

Sarah’s eight decades
Hadn’t diminished
Her desire to be touched,
Weakened the want
Of warm lips
To press against hers or
Gentle arms around her waist
To pull her close
On a chilly night.
During their courtship
He had been a kind, faultless gentleman
Holding doors and
Standing till she was seated
Giving in to her every want and
Barely a peck on the cheek
At the end of the evening.
He’d hold her arm
As they crossed an icy street
But not her hand
As they watched the sunset.
He was her wingless angel,
A late in life partner
Set on pleasing her
Giving her trips
To the pyramids and the Panama Canal
But unwilling to touch her soft skin
As the tropic sun turned it brown.
Sarah never complained
But after he was gone
She told her daughter
She wanted
A warmer blanket.


SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors   (available on Amazon.com)

MORNING MEDITATION

I’d be first on the beach

If not for the gulls

There before the sun

Feasting without satiation.

Tap, Tap, TAP

Crack, a hole

Death intrudes

Without invitation.

To a crustacean

A gull’s heart

Is as hard

As its beak.

The sun now

Five fingers above

The horizon

I’m late for breakfast.

Left behind

My footsteps pass

A seashell landfill

But no remorse.

INHERITANCE - For Denia and Jess

I’m pained
I placed
My rock
In your shoe
Not realizing
It’d become
An enduring part
Of you.

While
Raising you
I was living my
Imperfect life.
I realize now
My ways
Were cutting deep
Like a knife.

As a fish
Is unaware of water,
I was oblivious
To my will.
Today
Through your inheritance
You’re living
With it still.

I’ve given you
Worthwhile gifts
Along with them
Came a stone.
Forgive me
It’s your life
Work hard
Make it your own.

CRAB CLAW

CRAB CLAW

I was in a terrible mood
As I walked the waterline along the beach.
Cynthia broke up with me last night
Claimed I was running away from our problem
Not willing to face it.
So I drove away and ran to the shore.
I was alone in pain watching waves and
Crushing discarded shells as I walked.

My eye caught a splash of color,
A crab’s claw not the crab just the claw.
Transfixed by its beautiful blue arm and red pointed pincers,
I felt the awful pain it caused
As it brought its catch to its mouth
Scooped up the claw in a clam shell
Brought it back to my rented room
Placed it on the night table next to the phone and lamp.

I moped through the rest of the day falling asleep
After finishing my third beer and a bottle of tequila.
Sleep offered little relief from my pain
Consciousness seemed far away when I first heard the tapping.
Tap, tap, tap
Like something striking the lamp base
Growing louder and louder until
I opened my eyes and turned on the light.

The claw sat in the shell motionless. I stared at it
Expecting it to move to tap the lamp base
One more time. I waited.
It did not move.
The message light was blinking.
It was Cynthia. She wanted to hear
My voice. It was 2 a.m. when I called her back.
Could she come to the shore so we could talk?

How does one feel when sunlight finds a crack
In the clouds and lights the ground?
I whispered “yes” and silently started to cry.
At dawn while waiting for her by the shore
Watching the waves, I took the blue and red crab claw
With its painful pincers and threw it back into the sea
Where it belonged.
It no longer interested me.