Modigliani Pause

Modigliani-sgPainting: Modigliani.

So, we must laugh before that day may come;

before that twilight leaves us little choice

when both will mourn our last day in the sun

when colder silence muffles all our voice.

Yet greet me now; be kind before the fall.

Accept our hours together precious few

with no resentment for each time I call

with no assessment I am stressing you.

So many words,  unspoken,  stall mid-air.

They cause a pause become a gulf  between.

Make use of precious hours we might share.

Instead, you’re here, yet turn away, unseen.

I speak, apart,  but do not wish to be

so distant only forest hears my plea.

“Man Revisited”

Many Plans for going to Mars but what about solving some of earth’s problems first?

Man Revisited

One hopes that since we’ve walked upon the moon,

Man might explore the vastness of his brain;

that universe unconquered yet has shown

far more intrinsic value to obtain.

A trip into that mystical terrain

than all expansive purview planned for Mars.

Our future now dependent on the sane;

the problem solvers_ human avatars.

Best, noble man must journey to that place

and study all those links that, synapse free,

may point to other auras never graced.

A new-found land for all humanity.

Solutions for man’s problems here on earth;

a giant leap the grandest since his birth.


The Garden

Field of Flowers

The Garden

Imagine all the love our lives enclose

 if placed within walled garden’s memory.

There gently falls the rain where grows the rose

as droplets tremble in the wind and flee.

A wondrous world with rain-bowed colors blown

‘neath places in the sun where true things grow.

So be our rose whose petals now are flown

yet youth and passion’s heart remain and glow.

Oh, love’s true colors want to beam and breathe.

She grows, undying,  in green bowers where

her petals show a bold, bright destiny

so wild,  her vines are willing yet to share.

And our imagined rose, forever free

remains within our garden’s memory.



“There May Be Dragons”

Photo by Jacqueline Casey

There may be dragons in that soul-less flight

where harpies;  hovering aloft her bed,

born of a spell that chills the wicked night

and winters in her heart some unknown dread.

There may be dragons in the hate-filled gloom:

a whistling as the icy wind now drones.

As thundering is heard; impending doom

may crack the branches of the empire’s thrones.

Oh, seek to know the reason they are here.

The slow roll and the glaring eyes proclaim

love’s mated with a devil’s crushing leer.

There’s mystery; their birth is foreordained.

There may be dragons in the frozen night

as all those kingdoms hold their breath in fright.


(this poem influenced by “Game of Thrones”…)



“She’s Gone”


When he’s here,
I’ll not be there.
Everyone knows I’m a coward
who’ll refuse his foot-in-the-door.
I’ll pull the shades
turn off the light
throw the chain-bolt.
I will be sneaky
as he is punctual.