This is to the new arrival
More than a bundle of joy
Nothing is more magical
Than our little baby boy
Watching him roll his eyes
Unsure what make of you
Though world in his eyes
An uncomplicated view
Whenever hes in a kerfuffle
Their in his hour of need
Giving him a cuddle
Or his hourly feed
To the new arrival
Who brings so much glee
Nothing more magical
Than our little zachary
Written july august 2015
Follow up too bambino
Some bits were later used
In poems world in his eyes,bambino short
Version another tribute to son Zachary....
Leaving dusty footprints on Texan soil,
a drifting unemployed taxi driver.
Stumbling through nights of doubt,
towards seedy lighthouses that shone brightest.
He scratched her name on napkins, in margins,
on the fogged glass of Greyhounds—
rehearsing a love that would never be more
than a monologue for his mirrors.
Believing the act would be a sentence,
six shots, one ricocheted love letter,
so that on his arrival,
history might remember him
as something other than a ghost.
changing leaves falling
touching coldness of ground
crisp under damp boots
epiphanies arrive
like a quiet unveiling~
a soft brightening
at the edge of thought,
light slipping inward
without a sound;
they touch the mind
the way dawn touches windows,
a gentle emergence
of what was always there,
waiting to be seen
by the heart’s slow turning.
The school bus crawled into the village
just as the sun slipped beyond the horizon.
Villagers emerged with machetes in hand,
clearing the road for their visitors—
men and women united by a mission
to protect and preserve marine life.
Joy filled the island.
Laughter echoed from every corner.
The local captain, Pastor Kagoto,
could not stop reciting his poems,
while songs drifted through the evening air.
Village girls came out singing,
their voices carrying across the shore
as they welcomed the newcomers.
Later that night,
the visitors pitched their camp on the island.
The women retired to their tents,
while the men gathered around a crackling fire.
The waves whispered against the beach,
their rhythm clear in the stillness of the night.
Above, the sky blazed with countless stars,
as if the heavens themselves had joined the villagers
in welcoming the guests.
As darkness settled over the island,
hearts were filled with anticipation,
and every soul carried great expectations
for the days that lay ahead.
Peace sought my heart,
Her calm touch, a gentle start.
Her care brought sweet relief,
Like cool rain upon dry earth.
The feeling of love and care,
The warmth of joy,
A solemn expression of happiness
She is a caregiver to weary souls.
With each new sun
Comes a brand-new start,
A new dawn of life
To take the knife from my hand.
Do not take peace for granted.
When she comes, she brings happiness;
She is the doctor of my soul,
And her love makes the heart whole.
Beneath soft skies, the waking earth exhales,
A tender green begins its quiet claim,
As winter loosens, all its silver veils.
The fragile buds awaken into flame,
Of color brushed on branches, bright yet shy,
Each petal whispers out the sun’s new name.
A warming breeze drifts lightly through the sky,
And carries songs from birds unseen, yet near,
Their notes like laughter drifting low and high.
The rivers hum, their crystal voices clear,
As melting frost returns to living streams,
And time itself feels softer, less severe.
In blooming light, the world renews its dreams,
And beauty grows where hope and sunlight gleams.
A Messiah's birthday in the twelfth month,
A Saviour's arrival at the end of the year.
We celebrate the joy He brings.
He came to a little town
So that, from there, He could see the entire world.
He came from a humble home
To understand what is missing from the tables of those under the breadline.
He made Christmas for all;
He gave everything for everyone.
The blessings of Christmas are for everyone—
In homes, on the streets, or in makeshift tents.
The gifts of Christmas are for everyone—
The high, the lowly, the feeble and the aged.
December 25, 2025.
Zens first contemplation
In the after of meditation
A visual
The garden is paper breathing a turn
Suggesting you are in again
That is sound
Sacred ohm or worth?
Neither is obtained
Only suggested
I find no rupi
She arrives elsewhere
Only knowing ink knows where
Fall sashays in with chilly air,
bright swirling leaves, and season’s fare—
all subjects of the poet’s pen.
With chilly air, fall sashays in.
spring's arrival
with all its renewal
~ a bunny's new world
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
AUTUMN’S QUIET ARRIVAL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days have cooled in autumn’s pleasant breeze. I bathe in the kind of weather that inspires long walks and poetry. Yet in this transition from late summertime into the fall, the autumnal blooms press on as if the sun were at its fullest. I savor this moment, this beauty in the season that walks calmly into the arms of winter.
autumn doth arrive
promising new life amidst
the drama of death
Slowly the meadow loses its charm,
Nature embraces the transient harm.
September 4, 2025.
Falls arrived with its cool gentile breeze
Detaching leaves off sleeping trees
The sea was a whisper before it was water,
cleaved through the wind.
I stepped into its silver mouth,
waves curling something pressing in
a wistful longing for a past I never knew.
Seagulls traced ethereal designs across the expanse
their wails scattered like fragments.
Somewhere underneath the foam,
the past was fossilized within sedimentary strata
waiting for my hands to delve deep enough to find it.
The tide came in more forcefully
and I thought of to how love in this way
always arriving, always leaving---
sometimes tender, sometimes intense enough
to split the coast in two.
When it ebbed, it left behind more than remnants of a disaster,
it embodied the ideal I sought;
calmed by the steady undulations of the sea,
gleaming in calmness;
as if the tide dredged up
on the verge of being forgotten.
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