Best Exertions Poems

Everything had gone well and the night was still young,
she had made her intentions quite clear,
home alone we're not walking, the drink was now talking,
and the score was one-nil to the beer.
So we flagged down a cab, made a ten minute trip
hoping none of the...

Continue reading...

All music is relational
Even if the instrument itself is unconscious: 
Like tree leaves in a breeze
Telegraph their praise in God's presence,
Dot and dash an earthy hymn;
Like an earthquake whose rumblings
Remind you that in geological time
All that we think of as solid and whole
Shares water's properties;
Even...

Continue reading...

'...and then the lighting of the lamps.'
                                    -T.S. Eliot


Swallows flit...

Continue reading...

Ephesians 2:8 (KJV) “For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s grace…

that leaves footprints in the skies,
more than just the shimmer of stars,
more than the shafts of a buttery soft sunrise,
more than the music...

Continue reading...

Why should we be in love though it’ll end?
And we both know so, so why should we start?
Knowing that our feelings and time in vain spent 
And we gain nothing but the aching of the heart 
 	
It is a matter of time till our...

Continue reading...

A cacophony of cheers
Sand sprays like fireworks
From feet, hands, ball, hair.
Four women, two-a-side,
In a battle for the ages.

A motion of fluidity and a
Knowledge brought forth
From years in the fray.
Sun, rain, the elements,
Just more adversaries

In a long procession of
Combatants put asunder
By their clear dominance
Of a gritty...

Continue reading...

The river smells like damp cotton this morning,
the weather has been so complimentary to our exertions
frost invades the nights nicely and soft sunshine comforts our faces in daytime,
we have been averaging 26 miles per day for more than a week
which gives us fat optimism that...

Continue reading...

Nightfall on 
   the metropolis 
Untold millions head 
  homeward 
Tired from the day's exertions 
They slow down and prepare for sleep 
   But the "night people" 
are just starting out 
They will fill the bars and dancehalls tonight 
...

Continue reading...

Golda and Goofus.

or how a young Baer lost his luncheon and found that man need not live by bread alone.
                         ...

Continue reading...

because life is limited
men measure the length of life 
using the rulers marked to their own standard;
some cry, some sigh, some worry to death, while others, 
tremble with uncontrollable rage; yet they struggle to stretch 
their life as long as they can and hold onto...

Continue reading...

Nineteen Eighty, tell me,
Where are you? 
What are you trying to be?
This week, you're 1963
And there's even
Talk of a rebirth of '67
But that's next week.
Nineteen Eighty, tell me,

When will you be mine?
A little bit '59,
I'll not share you with a Beatnik,
Take a rest after the...

Continue reading...

Hey,come 3rd quarter of each calender year,  it is that time of the year again, 
This phenomenon is headlined in local dailies each day, again and again...

An enviromental situation, all kinds of experts in general do agree...
A regular man-made consequence from widespread clearing and...

Continue reading...

POEM BY BASHO

We were quiet now,
still breathing deeply from
the sexual exertions of our
late middle age, guided by
the music, gliding toward a
landing through the ambient
haze of unconditional love

The Japanese singer with the
black eyes and hair and the
rising sun mouth, lived her 
rhythm and blues through the...

Continue reading...

Winston has passed on...

She heard him rummaging, turning on taps
opening the fridge, you know, stuff like that
removing her coat, a black felt-like hat
she set the long table and stroked her sad cat
then calling out as he stomped upstairs
You know that snow has stopped out there?
idly...

Continue reading...

Anti-Poem — “Baxter Street Monday”

me trudging walking
gripping onward forward 
traipsing baxter street monday 
and its steep inclines
going up like a dizzy sparrow
passing vertical merry go rounds 
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts 
that sip spit with maraschino endives 
scanning thighs ripe with hard-ons
the stoner pink boys...

Continue reading...