A Quiet Place

My prayer is mute

as hummingbird

whose pause is heard

mid hurried ohm

flutters wings

tips over open bud

and hovers, huddles home

in silent poem.

leucistic-albino-annas-hummingbird-flowerphoto by Sallie Rae Kimmel, California (a Leucistic, Anna’s Hummingbird)



Martin’s Dream

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” Martin Luther King, Jr.

Martin’s Dream

I fall into the blackest hole in space
my soul now travels through the darkest scene;
a foreign place where there’s no time or grace.
I move through tunnels of relentless scream.

A message from my minister of flight:
“From swirling depths you’re not allowed escape.
And you will fall forever out of sight.
It’s written here for relevance of hate:

You broke the rules! Your punishment will end
when darkness turns to morning’s crashing fuss;
when love’s the rule regardless of the win
and Rosa sits beside you on the bus.”

The clatter of my clock begins to sing
as Monday calls all sinners to its ring.




Song for a Street Musician

joshua-bell-special-pageSong for a Street Musician”

So heavenly, from other worlds, notes stray
in station of the Metro, Washington.
Majestic music fills the vast arcade
as people hurry on hear Mendelssohn
but Bach is hushed as morning rush has won
though Joshua plays with all his heart and soul.
With street musician’s image, he is shun
as someone drops a dollar in his bowl.

An anxious crowd rush by; they cannot stay
to hear this troubadour play on and on.
A fear of being late seems to allay
a man who leans against the wall as one
who listens to the sweet, sustaining run
as Bell now bends his bow to charm; cajole.
Some listen with the morning’s rising sun
as someone drops a dollar in his bowl.

There’s magic to be heard at break of day.
Notes float about cold faces, blank and wan.
How busy are the echoed strings that play.
How fast the people moving hither-yon
as Joshua Bell, musician; an icon
with waving bow, his violin extols
the morning air; his music’s lexicon
as someone drops a dollar in his bowl.

His precious Stradivari’s a beacon
as seven people stop to hear the whole
‘Midsummer Nights’ bright music for a reason
as someone drops a dollar in his bowl.