Could lovelier at all heaven truly be?
My verdant oasis, magical Berkshires?
My artistic sense of awe enhanced by thee
Reverence of this holy place, oak of tree
My heart burns with unknown fires
Your pacifying qualities unparalleled you see.
Respite given to travelers, and ones who flee.
Memories of this beautiful scene, hopefulness inspires,
My artistic sense of awe enhanced by thee
A wonderful meditative state, to fully understand her glee.
This meadow and woodsy landscape often requires
Could lovelier at all heaven truly be?
Let us take our respite her, my love, painted gloriously,
God’s painted woods, meadows of the Berkshires
My artistic sense of awe enhanced by thee
To never make a lot of friends,
though enemies were scarce
And keeping both arm’s length away,
my words alone repaired
Splitting the difference tween comrade and foe,
the measurement obscured
One to the other, together as one
—my loneliness endured
(Berkshires: January, 2015)
Where is the Beauty between the death and her chaos
If the mountains are forever lost,then..what good will a Prayer do
The lush fertile soil that was gently tendered with care
barren landscape without a pretty scene
Before another night in which the Devil dare to dream
Bright Flares from the Fall out upstairs
Strangers,in our shelter,struggling to stay alive without decadence or chairs
Laughing Men smirk in the macabre of their insanity
Ignoring the relics,around,a signpost of Nuclear reality
Caverns of the West contain the remains of San Francisco
Up upon the scorched New England Berkshires
is all that remains of the few and the once proud Bostonians
Evil has won ,on this,our depleted Glory
Cave children of the Future,on stone tablets,will they tell our story
AMEN
I am unknown
Quiet,shy
Simply put..a gentle sort of guy
Every day from 9 til 3
Submitting my poetry
They are for all to see
Fame is not my game
Not looking to add
a writer credit to this name
It is the best of just a simple poem
Describing life:Where,How,When,and Why?
To call myself a Poet Great
Is an insult to those who long and wait
There are many who are more talented than I
They will be known
"Poets American Pie"
This "Unknown" writer in sensitive
Prefers anonymity
Country home on a New Hampshire side
Winters in the Berkshires county
Fate has not been a friendly face
The clock ticks
Father Time points to my face
Even though my work may be shown
All,in all,though..
I'd rather be unknown
Mondays,
I sit in the parlor and write a few poems
Reflections of an outer and inner world in turmoil
It need not rhyme to describe the pain between the lines
Tuesdays,
The hand surfs the Internet to read and study other people's rhyme
To get a clear understanding of what I should or should not do
My best friend comes over and we spend the afternoon talking
Conversations about what is clear but unsaid in our lives
Wednesdays,
I take a drive to the beach and stroll upon her singing waters
Lying down on the sand and just look at the sky
Watching the tide of the air go swirling high
My parents and myself go off to the cinema and enjoy Woody allen
Thursdays,
Going horse-back riding in the Berkshires and fish near a stream
skipping a rock on the waters as a bittersweet John Denver song
is playing in my ear and mind
Fridays,
An afternoon at a local book cafe,reading a few works from
well-regarded local poets
Discussing Life and music with my therapist
Saturdays and Sunday,
I am off and sleeping
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