An ancient river, centuries-old shops and restaurants steeped in a 2000-year history and
culture set the scene. The ambiance seemed divinely contrived to facilitate the purposes of
our meeting and the very fodder from which the greatest poets are sustained.
Not newcomers to the area, Kay P. and I were assigned to the Army Security Agency Field
Station in Augsburg, Germany in 1974. We were colleagues in the intelligence community
with no romantic overtures to our relationship, save an appreciation of poetry and profound
philosophical discussions. Kay wanted to spend the evening with a poet, so we planned the
evening to be appropriate for the purpose.
At the time and place, we quickly found ourselves hopelessly immersed in the philosophical
foundations of my writings throughout the evening. It was the first time since Vietnam that
I'd felt worthy as a person. I still recall sipping the red wine and feeling the warmth of the
large hearth inside the Balkan eatery. I still see the swans gliding by on the Lech flowing by
When windowpanes begin to weep with autumn's chilly dew,
I'm taken back through seasons passed to one delight held true,
A rendezvous that time allowed, a gentle evening spent
Amid a time of long discord when days were dreary bent.
I feel the stretch upon my lips, the smile returns once more.
Again, I smell the Balkan fare prepared on Lech's old shore,
The mood is cast in high regard, the wine is tart and dry,
As Augsburg ripples in the wake when swans go gliding by.
The ancient windows frame our view and day begins to wane
As rivulets meander down and streak the dampened panes.
The ambiance of ages passed beseeched us not to leave
And held us in its warm embrace throughout the ebbing eve.
My heart was scarred, without regard and hardened by the war
But her esteem unveiled its worth, while nothing had before.
She saw the child that once was me, I'd long since cast aside,
And bade he climb astride his mount, engage his life and ride.
Now, she is but a memory, whose kindness soothed my heart,
For we embarked upon our lives on paths ordained to part.
Her subtle way escaped my eye till time had made it clear
That her esteem had set me free, that night I hold so dear.
The poetry that filled my soul remains these many years,
Impassioned in my warmest thoughts when autumn first appears,
When windowpanes begin to weep, a-glisten with the dew,
And I return to seasons passed, to one delight held true.
Tis the rose that wants to live
That rails against the frost,
Tightly closed, the petals warm
The autumn heart that summer lost.
The dew that drips from rose to leaf
Like tears from cheek to breast,
Once was cold, now shimmers warm
To earn, at last, its' rest.
The blackened bud, once struck with cold
Appears to others dead,
But burns within, a passionate soul,
And heart of bright and crimson red.
And bursting forth it cannot hide
The will to live within,
Its' bold and subtle softness tells
Persistent hearts can win.
This quatrain poem was written twenty plus years ago and was inspired by a true frost bitten rose at a truly emotional time and its story and message is real and still lives. I brought the rose in and put it in a vase and it opened to be a perfect rose and like the rose love did the same.
Apples ripen pink, hotly blushing,
though the ardent yellow sun grows faint;
blackbirds sucking soft honeyed sweetness.
like babies at breast, show no restraint.
Mellow ripeness splays rich-toned color;
the trees raise scarlet armed applause.
Red-brown and gray, small creatures hurry
stowing provisions for winter's pause.
September 1, 2014
Splendor of Autumn in its glorious bloom
Bestowing us with nature's gifts precious
Fragrant orchards with their ripened looms
Tempting aroma of the fruits luscious.
To the Autumn born, the season appeals
As I inhale lungfuls of the festive air
Drum beats reverberate, child's gleeful squeals
We celebrate Autumn with unique flair!
Auburn hues of the flora flourishing
Trekking dry hilly trails with impish pride
Vibrant beauty of fauna simply ravishing
Toddler enjoying his piggy back ride!
Armed with dry sticks tiny hands fiddle
To catch the colorful flipping butterflies
Beneath pattering feet crispy leaves crinkle
The sail-boat clouds drifting through blue-glass skies.
On a pond blossoming with lilies and lotuses
They empty their left-over dewy wet delights
Nature basks in sunlight's golden caresses
The whole cosmos soaks in wonderful sounds and sights!
Time travel has always fascinated man
Could UFOs be steered by human hands
Consider this premise before you say no
So called “grays” resemble human embryos
Evolution proceeds, gene pool depleted
Mind power expanded but bodies weakened
Future man looks back in a quest to erase
Effects of the technology we embrace
With smog blocking sun’s rays, skin has turned gray
Bodies thin as meat exits the food parade
Reproduction is challenged by low-grade genes
Sad Earthlings search the past and like what they see
Tan, healthy bodies adorned by hairy manes
Fertile women who suckle innocent babes
Men of great strength who clear forests with axes
Strong immune systems when a virus attacks
In sore need of genetic material
Large-brained grays devise a means for time travel
Abductees are beamed to aircraft by bright rays
Frightened while forced to donate their sperm and eggs
Time travelers say nothing, perhaps ashamed
To be stealing from ancestors in this way
Capacity for learning greatly enhanced
But the grays know nothing of sex or romance
When farmers find signs of mutilated cattle
Such evidence should not provoke a call to battle
If future man’s life is genetically revived
Meat may be required to keep humans alive
Don’t hide in terror when you see colored lights
Spinning in circles on chilly autumn nights
Close encounters, but abductees’ lives are spared
Returned to their homes by captors who care
Consider the fate of new generations
If you’re called upon to make a “donation”
Experiments grays perform may seem absurd
But they may be trying to save our own world
Elegant Goldie and handsome Leaf Red
Brushed one another, thus happened to meet
mid-air, where Goldie by Red then was led
In one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three beat.
Gliding and twirling, they waltzed all around,
Up the hill, down the hill, over a stream.
Sliding but never quite touching the ground,
Like Fred with his Ginger, they danced like a dream.
Goldie was glowing with sun’s going down.
Red seemed like crimson against twilight sky.
Rustling his suit while she whirled in her gown,
They glittered while wafting first low and then high.
Nature was humming the Falling Leaves song;
Chill autumn breezes kept urging them on.
Fluttering fluttering all the night long,
With hoot owls hoo-hooing, they danced until dawn.
Suddenly, all became still in day’s light.
The couple was parted, for wind ceased to blow.
There came drifting down something moist and white.
Farewell, pretty leaves. Now is Dance of the Snow.
For Francine Roberts' Nature Story Contest
Amidst the mists and coldest frosts,
With naked wrists and darkest souls,
She slams her fists against the bars,
And still she screams she sees the ghosts.
Through summer days and autumn nights,
Through season’s end and blinded sights,
They keep her down and clip her wings,
To mute the lovely song she sings.
In troubled times for modest lives,
To see the truth beyond the lies,
As time goes by and death comes 'round,
Her body’s cast upon the ground.
Through hearts of ice and hands of stone,
The devil’s wife’s possessed the throne.
But even though pain’s at it’s most,
She’ll still admit she’s seen the ghosts.
... Summertime is growing weary.
Welcome to the autumn rain,
A new season taking over
Hydrating the earth again.
Arid land with celebration
Greedily absorbs each drip,
With the dry and dusty flora
Raising eager mouths to sip.
Running rivulets of water
Turning grasses back to green.
It is showering time for nature
Every plant a new washed sheen.
Summer lingering in spasms,
She must abdicate with grace.
This is changing of the seasons.
Fall is slipping into place.
Autumn dressed in leaves of color
Gold and scarlet, every tone.
Pre-apology for winter
With a splendor all her own.
Colorful symphonies sound
As red and gold bells fall down,
Shook loose by crisp cool air,
Tinkling their way to the ground.
Displayed on the limbs of trees
Are rich orange marmalade leaves,
Visions of autumn’s dessert
Tasting sweetly upon the breeze.
Autumn brews warm concoctions
With auras of perfection
And richly spiced aromas,
Which soothe our frayed emotions.
Fall’s festive nature brings out
A spirited dancing shout
And lovely celebrations
With beauty bursting about.
For: Autumn's Beauty Contest
We waved goodbye to the summer skies
As we walked below the last canopies of green
Our memories in awe at mother natures blooms
Appreciative as we witnessed her scene
Fading colourful spectrum's shared many a bed
Butterflies and insects buzz out another year
Yesterdays scents captured in our minds
Her beauty simply amazes, even brings a few tears
The winds through the trees whistle mournful tunes
Whilst the weakened leaves start their spiralling fall
We walk as they drift on the Autumn breeze
To watch their demise leaves an eerie enthral
The evening descends absorbing the light of the day
Giant cathedrals of brown change to an ebony black
Invisible sounds resonate amongst shadows of dark
This seasonal change shows no lack
Hand in hand we have walked through this beautiful park
Stopping and staring at the most beautiful of views
We head back home contemplating tomorrows writes
My girl and I sharing natures inspirational muse