Last Night

Again my sleep was fitful

tossing side to side

my mind working 

trying to find answers

laying there in the dark

the only light

the glimmer of numbers

that count out the minutes

of another long night.

Visions play out

on the walls of my mind

yet no answers are there

only shattered pieces 

of what was and not what is.

Outside the moon

shines alabaster white

shedding its light

on the landscape

coloring it a cold gray

that only highlights

the deep dread I have

in these dark hours.

Soon the sun will rise

the new day will begin

but for now I just lay here

my poor prayers ascending

into the darkened room

seeking answers not there.

My Talk with Presidents

Last night I had this dream

I was sitting in a room talking

with John Adams and Thomas Jefferson

our second and third Presidents

about what they did when they served.

Both were old men and like old men

they reminisced about the good old days

they still had differences but were genial

unlike what we see today.

In this dream I told President Adams

that I admired his courage

for standing firm against forces

that sought to drive the young nation

into war that could not be won

much less afforded given our condition.

Of course Jefferson, wasn’t so kind

for him the revolution was yet complete.

Yet, for all of their differences

politically and socially, they talked

about the issues, logically, calmly.

Maybe that’s what I miss today

reason over insanity, true dialogue

over shouted words and accusations.

Of course, this was only a dream

a fantasy that crept into my sleeping head

and like most dreams vanished with the light

and then I turned on the TV 

watching a nightmare come true

and wanting to go back to sleep.


There are those moments

when I tend to over think

trying too hard to be perfect

as I write out bits and pieces

that I believe is poetry.

I want to corral these words

make them change agents

of the human heart

only I find them lacking.

There is no snappy phrase

no memorable quote

needlepointed and hung

to enlighten darkened souls.

Just my poor words

dug up from the cellar 

where they have languished 

under a bed of broken dreams

gathering mold and mildew.

Now these words are shouting

seeking to be heard and seen

my souls deepest thoughts

awakening from the long sleep.

It’s not the time for perfection

that is an illusion, a fantasy at best

like unrequited love that’s lost

in the mists of the past.

I write my poetry in the moment

where past and future intersect

in the dream world of my heart

exposing my deepest fears

in the living of my life.

Blue October Sky

Sitting outside staring up into a cloudless blue sky

on a cool, October day watching as the sun sets

it’s light golden as it shines on the changing leaves

and the cool breeze blows gently through the boughs

swaying like the arms of one lost in the wilderness.

I wonder, as I look upon natures ever changing face

about those changes that come upon us each day

as we like those wind blown boughs

are swayed by the noise and the breath of dragons

who populate our screens and speak in angry voices.

Was the end like this for those monks on the holy isle

as they watched the ships approaching with steel and fire?

I have to think that endings are seldom abrupt and final

as we slowly edge our way to the chasm laid for us

one we have created in our blindness to each other.

What started as a small drop has become a flood

breaking down the levees of our souls, drowning our hearts

as we are washed away like so much debris

into the oceans vastness there to be tossed about.

My own introverted self seeks that peaceful place

where the machines are silent and only birds sing

to take a deep breath of the love that is in the air

as I sit here staring up into the blue October sky

Personal Lament

My God, my God

I cry out sitting here

amongst the pieces

of a broken ministry

seeking words of hope

in a time of hopelessness 

where joy has succumbed 

to the darkness of fear.

I stand as one of your

messengers with mute voice

railing against the tide

of human indifference

that rejects the Divine Word

that dwells in the depths 

of our creation desiring peace.

I am the Psalmist 

listening for your voice

in the noise that pollutes 

the very air that we breathe

watching as humanity 

slowly devours itself

smiling with every spoonful 

as they hack away 

unmindful that they to

are on the menu.

The Accident

They stood there

heads bowed down

grief in the air

the human need

to ritualize these moments

when life passes.

Even out on the street

where oil and gas stain

the place when in a moment

it happened, and he died.


minds in a fog

standing there staring

into the void left

by one they knew.

We are born into this world

set off on a journey

our destiny uncertain

life’s mystery concealed 

within the fragility of ourselves.

Out here on the street

heads bowed down

tears watering the place

mingle with oil and gas

left in the wake.