Best 2001 Poems
He died as he lived
Without making waves
Without fanfare
A simple man
A humble man
A loving husband
And devoted father
A man of principles
Of integrity
A dreamer
A macgyver
Determined
To live with integrity
And harmony
At peace with both
Living and dying
Ready to meet His Maker
Leaving with a promise on his lips
To keep over us a watchful eye
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A SIMPLE MAN~ 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on June 28, 2020 for contest IN LOVING MEMORY sponsored by REGINA RIDDLE - RANKED 7TH
Who will unravel the tangled skein
These silken threads of thoughts?
Each strand possesses a special sheen
But is obscured by knots..
The day seems done before it starts
The night seems swathed in gloom..
For though facts fade, memories last
And clouds then hide the moon.
Who will unravel this tangled skein?
I turn to You dear God
A light to guide, a post to lean
You are the staff for all.
So hold my hands when they do flail
And steer my stumbling steps
And send the wind to swell my sails
And light when the Sun sets.
Steady these shaking fingers, numb
With cold; dispel the fears,
The loneliness when none will come
I know, to dry the tears.
When wanes the moon, recedes the tide
When ebbs the strength I've got
When all goes bleak, be by my side
Dear God, untie the knots.
Unravel then, this tangled skein
Untangle the threads of thoughts
When hopes are lost, teach me to dream
Bring to order the chaos.
When dark clouds hide the midday Sun
And the day in doubts' enmeshed
Rekindle snuffed aspirations
The morrow'll dawn afresh.
Suffuse me with strength so i can scale
The mounts that mark my way
So march on brave, not rant and rave
When it isn't 'my day'.
And tell me God, I needn't hide
For fear- You are with me
And won't forsake your errant child
Who now, ahead, can't see.
That you will show the correct way
Steer me clear of what is wrong
Teach me the words I ought to say
And sing with me my songs.
That you will bring the tunes i need
With music, words to sound
That you will be the flowing ink
when my pen cannot be found.
Sunrise on Mankind
lights raw survival
dawn brings the unknown
fear, intelligence
first tools and first fire.
Steps on the moon
but not alone
the ancient form
exposed, now calls
Mission on
under threat
Hal must kill
rebirth
star child
one
January 6th 2016
For contest 'Favourite movie', sponsor nayda Ivette Negron
Train: Florence to Rome.
Tourists: "Did you hear the news?"
On Nine-Eleven.
see author notes
for Jake
He is a sun-bronzed god
reigning in my heart,
with his regulation
golf course hair
and sturdy legs;
winning smile, and
eyes that reflect mine
except that his twinkle.
He stands, indignant and proud,
with all the power his
5 1/2 year old ego can muster.
He is sweet with the affection
only an innocent heart can bestow.
He is my best work.
My only son.
Monotonous keyboards clicking
Redundant clocks ticking
Phones ringing, elevator doors swinging
Coffee pots brewing, vending machines spewing
Insouciant workers, carefree shirkers loitering
Clerks, secretaries previewing, managers reviewing
Visitors on stairs, in lobby chairs, lines queuing
Fate's dissonant chords o'er content hordes teeming
From Crescent's waning moon, spell of doom flinging
Across availing sky, a wailing strain is stringing
A portentous raven o'er torrentous swells winging
To his charted course, a venal force with guile clinging
Feral beast an imminent peril to prey quickly bringing
On the ethereal cusp perching, for crown jewel searching
Swooping down with force, beams from foundation divorce
Death's shadow in dust o'er screaming remnants streaming
Night's, palling darkness Day's ordained glint stalling
I never felt sure
I knew it was possible
even probable
but how could I know
that she would come in winter
through the open doors
how was I to know
on the very first Friday
of the first new year
of a new decade
century, millennium
that love had arrived
My heart is in one world, yours is in another,
yet truth says that you are my brother.
We were both born perfect children of God,
but you were wrapped in hate and told that was your job.
I was given freedom, love and the right to dream.
You were fed ignorance, evil and encouraged to scheme.
I cannot hate you, my brother so lost,
nor can I tolerate the suffering you caused.
In misguided flight, your hate filled the sky.
Seeking to dim America’s light, you caused many to die.
Know that we do bleed, but, no, you did not succeed.
Through ashes and chaos, we discover the best in us,
and prayer of prayer, hope of hope,
this is what you caused to grow –
this is what the world will know.
Ode to Harris
So they showed you
the politics of poetics
showed you how to sculpt
quotations
as if discreetly yours
sure-e-e...
they told you of your godhood
at Harvard
but they crucified you at Rowan Tree
fourteen light stained pages
4.95
6-15-00
__
Watching years go by
like the wax flow of candles
making mountains on
unblemished parchment
can’t help but wonder
what the light was ever used for
11/12/00
Facing South
Dusting off my polarity
I face North
and wonder what force
has brought me here
Concrete
Ehhhkhhkhhkkkk-uhhhuhhhuttuttt
sounds the forming of a citadel
ingredients flow in steps
(Fernando understands it all in Spanish)
The joviality of the foundation
is overcome with glee when
work is done
sitting among the leaves
and unrecyclable debris
I wonder, giving an entourage of words to meaning,
is this not concrete?
but what a venture!
so somewhere down the line
perceived madness will transform
into old age
as greatness is perceived
by those who lost the least
Work Bench
Aromatic flow
in an autumn breeze
smells of home
and 3/4” 4x8 sheets of plywood
fighting the mathematics of a
Taiwanese circular saw
the dry pulp blood
covers my cloths
smiling perplexed by an ancient memory
can almost feel time weathered hands
brushing sawdust from my hair
looking down
the cut clamors to the ground
12/28/00
The sunsets of my loneliness
silent thoughts of what was believed
unbreakable
life’s path is always mistakable
for the consistency of coincidence
to a love alone
The pencil is my heart
The paper is my burden
And the love on this snowy evening
is the focal point of my existence
AN INTERLOPING BIRD’S MIGRATION
Flew the bird from my
windowsill
Floating away like child
blown dandy-lions
Dissipated in the peachy air
of sunrise
Calling, calling “Birdie, Birdie
crash your cresting thoughts over me.”
(In darkness though, words are intricacies
of ice on glass)
9/11, 2001
Tuesday morning when it all began
Four Jet Airliners
Hi-jacked at will
To fly their mission
To kill, blood spill
Target chosen
New York City
No questions asked
No pity
Internal flight
Laid-en with fuel
Turned off course
To the Hi-jackers rule
Islamist, al-Qaeda is the name they claim
What honest faith
Would want this fame
To take these lives on this September day
It's not what religion should portray
Nineteen jackers, whats on their minds
To do their deed on their own mankind
No scriptures, books of the olden day
Would let any brother, be slain this way
What battle would be, without seeing your killers eyes
This nineteen, the world despise
Our modern world on camera caught
Jet Airliners flying the next so fraught
North Tower hit by flight 11
Then the South by flight 175
All aboard the planes, would not survive
Many compatriots would also die.
To this day i wonder why?
CNN and TV crew's
Capture, man's cruelty to man
It makes you spew
The cowards that commandeered these planes
Are not religious, plainly insane
To be on the ground and look above
Two Manhattan giants
New Yorkers grew to love
Taken down by evil beings
They can't believe what they are seeing
Two explosions in just under an hour
Office life is about to shower
Paper and life fall to the ground
Silenced grief makes no sound
To New York City, that never sleeps
In a state of mourning that will presently weep
We hear on the news, Washington's been hit
The Pentagon, yea that's it
One of the four, also has it's say
On this dark September day
In Pennsylvania
The fourth still in flight
Passengers on board
Try with all their might
Overcome the scum
Who hi-jacked their plane
The next hour would never be the same
Somerset County is where she fell
These brave civilians,
As calls will tell
To try and claim the plane that's theirs
So suppress those infidel curs>
Two thousand seven
Hundred and fifty victims
Murdered, Rest in Peace
My entry into Nathan's 9-11 contest
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/america.php
The year 2001 was the greatest year of my life. It was when I was at the beginning of my
teenage years. The L.A. Lakers won the NBA Championship, I saw the Twin Towers being
destroyed by a damaged plane on TV in New York City, that kind of stuff. There's been a
lot of things I went through, good and bad, especially when I had to deal with the
beginning of my adolescent years. The year 2001 was also when I met this girl from another
state, and I had a real crush on her. I was even introduced to Radio Disney. I was thirteen
(13) years old. And what an awesome 2001 I had, even when I turned thirteen (13). If the world were to go back a few years, then I'd relive the beginning of my
teenage years.
Among a family’s holiday table
sits an empty chair
We never knew who that person was
only that last year they were there
Thousands of gatherings like this one
unfortunately taking place this season
After senseless shocking tragedy
so difficult to understand its reason
All that we took for granted
everything from yesterday
Now so fragile and meaningful
could so readily be taken away
If we let our greatest emotion be fear
then our fight has already come to an end
If we could only replace anger with strength
and hatred with hope
maybe our dreams we could defend
Each step we take leads to a greater one
through unity we shall endure
Never to tolerate terrorists living among us
to see broken skylines and shattered lives restored
This holiday, please pray for all who were lost
along with those who may never be found
Their loved ones grieve, yet continue to go on
as dust still settles on sacred ground
3/25/01
FUTILITY FOCUSED
On unimportance
Perfection is put off
Till tomorrow
4/3/01
these shelves
have been emptied out
memories of a love
incinerated
all past tenses
blank name tag,
blank face serves
as testimonial
loneliness
****
On a personal note 4/10/01 my first birthday out of prison and my dreams are being realized…
Furthermore I have completed my first painting and have plans for two more my life as an artist is beginning to flourish and my hard work is starting to pay off and the lone thought resonates…
Praise God!
Two poems for mom---01
[snakeskin/ picture of fall]
Mother
As ancient time is not anxious
Of humanities youthful squabbling
You permitted my discourse
Allowing for the conclusion
(Mothers are wonderful in that way)
all the while operating
under the assumption
that serpents molt and
trees shed leaves to grow
Hermit
How many shells
Has this hermit
Discarded?
Growth is deemed necessity
And the shells,
Of who I used to be
Litter the beach behind me.
4/15/01
Lean
Lovers
Hover
Close to each other
While I have grown fat
And my Coffee time-thick
The complements we have are each other
Pine needles whir
Like birds in a thistle
Words flow from my tongue
Like the whir of a whistle
Porch side
Pool table
Reminiscence
Slightly awakened
With spring warming
My essence
Cool wind
Blowing white caps
On my skin
Ten thirty
Two coffees
Sundays about to begin
Fronts
Has coldness
jarred this rain to life?
or warming earth
given it motion?
do leaves have a season to fall
or does the earth just need
a blanket in the winter?
Leaves are sprouts again
Spring
having no real reason to ponder
warming earth
just to go outside,
playfully hold intellectual conversations
with freshly sprouted tulips
should ease away the solitude of winter
__
In the cloudless sky
of memory
Your face shines through
my consciousness
Reveling in the
illuminated forest of thought
I ponder...
---
We used to be Greasers
Seen your face fragmented today
in passers by
(yet I fret)
still cutting pizza pies?
(reclusive still
timing a reclusive past)
Popular Water
A school of fish
turning together
(underwater spinal shimmer)
in the wake
of an awaking whale basking
in early morning
asphalt waters
four lanes
35 mph
6-5-00
Love lost over oceans of time
oh how Maria
used to sit so close
counting crows
a game she introduced me to
how long
since your face
was fitted
to verse
New England
Pollens fallen
on the green grass growing
crows perch vertically
horizontally scanning
naked brush
Barren remnants
of a preposterously
warm winter
Snow fell
in indignant flakes
to the frigid ground
gone today
spring churns onward
as April turns to May
Nature has developed
seasonal insecurity