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.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011


Tuesday was an earthquake,
Sunday a hurricane.
Must there be eight more plagues?
It’s driving me insane.

All this is my fault 
Since I was so wicked
I lied; said I was 65
To get a discount ticket.

Because of me there’s suffering
By innocent women and men
I promise all most sincerely
I’ll never do it again.

If you may be tempted
Please take my advice
Unless you can survive heaven’s wrath
You’re better off paying full price.

Sunday, August 21, 2011


Why does the artist
Get to do a self-portrait
In somber colors?
Gaunt cheeked,
A picture of himself
Serious and unconcerned.
Why can’t I write words
Indifferent to my critics
With cheeky expressions
That say “This is me.”
When did I learn to mourn  
Over what others’ think?
I must pose unafraid
And paint my own picture,
Even if my way is
To draw and quarter myself
In words.

Sunday, August 14, 2011


Dad, I remember 30 years ago
As though I had taken a picture
And written details on the back.
You made me peanut butter and jelly,
Taking the time to spread the jelly
All the way to the edges of the bread
And the peanut butter applied evenly
Like icing on a birthday cake. 
You gently put my sandwich,
Juice box, fruit and cookies on
The bottom of a brown paper bag
And folded the top over squarely
Several times pressing it tightly
So it wouldn’t unravel on the bus.
I remember this quite vividly and
Love you for caring so much that
Even my peanut butter and jelly sandwich
Had to be done well and my lunch bag
Had to stay together on my journey.

SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors   (available on

Sunday, August 7, 2011


Gathered round the table like Thanksgiving,
Tuesday afternoon is holiday for LBI writers.
They share the bounty, the fruits of their minds,
Anxiously anticipating others’ reactions,
Praise or pointed, always well meaning.
No jealous bees hoard their honey,
All are fed, fertilized and encouraged to bloom.

The event is joyous, a celebration. 
Wine is served in abundance. 
Words are the wine of writers.
They intoxicate the imagination.

Each writer is a parent
Lighting another candle
For the birthday table.
By the final page,
Faces glow in the illumination,
Fulfilled, thankful and longing like Ulysses
To return home, each Homer,
Story teller, myth maker, anxious
To sire a new sound for next week’s nectar. 

SEA GLASS PEOPLE - Portraits in Words and Watercolors  
 (available on