Just published, Book III

SEA GLASS SOUL - Invisible Colors, Poems and Paintings

My poetry and Pat Morgan's art - available at,
The Sea Glass Poetry Trilogy is now complete.

Sunday, June 26, 2011


                                                There’s no fool like an old fool
I heard you say to me,
But I’d be a fool if I didn’t try
Even if I’m seventy-three.

She’s young and cute and very sharp,
But you know she laughed at my joke,
Given a chance if I get her number
I’ll invite her out for fries and a coke.

You say I’m much too overweight
And haven’t run a mile in years,
But you don’t know what I have in mind
It doesn’t involve climbing stairs.

First she’ll need some imagination
And raise her expectations a bit,
Cause when I kiss her in the dark
She’ll think she’s kissing Brad Pitt.

Saturday, June 18, 2011


Death trusted me;
I don’t know why.
Maybe he liked my poetry.
He stands 6 foot 6, 165 pounds        
Like a wire figure, but after
He shook my hand I knew,
Not wire, but steel cable.
Over time we talked.

“I don’t feel well.”
Could death be sick?
“What do you mean?”
“I have no energy – no life force.”
He must be kidding?
“What’s wrong?”
“I feel like sleeping for a century.”
“So why don’t you?”
“Are you kidding?
I have responsibilities.”
“How can I help?”
“I’ll take a nap.  Wake me
When things get bad.”

He closed his eyes.
I had no intention of waking him;
I could save millions…
My scheme died
When I saw babies
Too weak to cry;
I woke him.
He rubbed his face,
Stood wobbly and then straight,
Looked me in the eye.
“Did you miss me?”

Saturday, June 11, 2011



Don’t tell me you are 39,
Only yesterday you were six,
Skinny and smiling
As you ran
Fast as you could
At the field day races
And I screaming
Loud as I could,
“Run Denia, Run!”
You probably didn’t hear me,
But the other parents
Standing next to me stared
With eyes lobster-wide.
They knew who
I was rooting for.

It’s you, kid.  It’s you.

Portraits in Words and Watercolors
(available at 

Monday, June 6, 2011


Will you sing to me
As I lay in my bed dying?
Ease my empty days?
Hold my frail hand?

Will you understand
If I’m scared and don’t
Ask how you are?
I may even turn away,
Ashamed that you are there
For me, not me for you.

Will you tell me lies:
You are fine,
Have everything you need,
The kids are all perfect,
They’re so busy now, but
Will visit soon.

Will you see
The wet corner of my eye?
Know how tired I feel?
Be aware I don’t mind leaving,
Except it hurts -
I won’t see you again.

Will you sing to me, my dear,
As I lay in my bed dying?
All I want to hear is
Your sweet voice.