Best Prospect Poems

Achilles, Bloody Battles, Death's Black Hand As Was Fated
Part Three, (the Conclusion)

Dawn, bright rays fell upon Achilles and his band
exiting ship, Greek sandals felt soft...

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Line of enquiry:
"We look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay 
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how...

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A millstone around my neck and weight about my feet
drag me down so deeply 
that I’m being pulled toward something. . .  
something from...

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It is important we know this eternal truth,
that our earthly lives may be linked but not our deaths!
you may have special memories from early youth,
but...

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Belief is the nemesis of uncertainty,
in times of torment we keep faith 
in God's gift of blessings bestowed upon us.

In a world without morals
Children of summer...

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It jumps not to the thought of riches or the prospect of gold
For common treasures are not what it seeks
But rather it responds to that...

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   heroes?

there are none here, now ... ever ...
      don’t feign to look, for your eyes will
 ...

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In his seething silence, I spoke, softly to him,
“Did I desire once to be higher than you, oh seething heart?
Could I, in my human flesh,...

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When I’m enticed by the allure of forever,
Ambivalent, I query, prospect of eternity:
If there’s no dying, what fate’s my destiny?
Would such existence be sans meaning?

Would...

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Like colored specks on a dull canvas 
You can live your life 
The different shades of your array 
Will make an elegant display 

The sometimes...

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Sailing Away Under a Silver Moon Forever

As the morning slowly awakens I see how those beautiful eyes
Of yours warmly shine bright and share thy palpable...

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Is my fate to go on living in this impervious place
where everyone dons a mask to conceal his face?
I'm floundering in this troubling tenure of...

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FIRST MOVEMENT (Minor Key)

Times such as these test body soul and mind
So should our thoughts be pain and dark confined
Or loosed to concentrate on brighter...

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Who can know the mysterious 
ways of the clouds? 
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles 
looking upwards in reverent penitence. 

Silent...

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A Tribute to Golda

It was a clear and bright sun shining morning in May.
As I came out my front door into the breezeway,
I saw coming...

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