Best Tome Poems

             
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I lift you up, delicately
like a bouquet of flames in pink patient fever,
romantically, I rove your surface with fingertips that tingle,
the texture of your treated...

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They stand, silently,
shoulder to shoulder, upright,
save one at the end, leather bound
who slouches, James Dean fashion.
Six with blue covers, gold blocked,
uniform, like Trumpton Firemen.
All wear...

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there, among those Ruby Spires
          stood I, a-gazing toward the mist
     ...

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Come into my house, 
Sit anywhere you like. 

No, not at my table, 
No, not on my chair. 
Come into my house,
Sit anywhere.

I invited you,...

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A book comprised of sixty-six,
with content of a unique mix.
Though found in almost every home,
It’s very much an unread tome.

The authors were a motley crew,
Into...

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I was an accomplished librarian, who took pleasure from written words,
As opera singers find their pleasure, in the halls where music is heard.

I was well...

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my flower ...
she sang for me -
ONLY for me
always in Japanese …
I did not know the words
I never asked her to translate
nor did I want...

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Baxter was born in a meadow 
under a rotting plank
with hundreds of brothers and sisters
in a home both darkly and dank.

His momma was a June...

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Genesis 0:0
'Before the beginning, God saw that the expanse was vast,
and in its vastness it was empty and still,
and it saddened him, and bored him...

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Here I stand before hundreds of moss grown graves
There is a mournful silence that extends
Through the weed grown path, no traveller walks
The place, some morbid...

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In the night sky, a lone star's light,
My heart's scar, a poetic sight.
It murmurs tales of yearning, woe,
Inspiriting words that I bestow.

Loneliness, my muse, its...

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
O precious codex, how lovely thou art to me.
          How do I pay homage to thee?
...

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A warning breeze bore tale of a familiar and fiery rage;
in the dread of night, a crone hobbled, accursed of her age  
by smoldering...

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The passing years
through trembling fingers slip,
like worry beads
unsurely strung
along life’s fraying thread.

Sages, seers and cynics peer
and say when it will snap,
but why regard the 
sing-song...

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