Yeah, you're not Europe
but there's enchantment
in your bricks
so poetically stacked
into sundry shops, bustling bars
and sidewalk cafes
even your courthouse
and church
approach the grandeur
of those across the pond
A nomad I roam
for months
sometimes years
but always come back
to haunt your streets
and stairways
I don't have a Caledonia
I don't love you
or hold you when I'm gone
but I feel you calling
just the same
and feel your embrace
when I return
my favorite port
we'll have some fun
but even as I sit here
on my favorite bench
(in your loving arms)
and adore my favorite bricks
my mind's on distant shores
planning my next escape
I'll write a poem in this cafe
and caress your curvy sidewalks
and stairways with steps of gratitude
I'm here
I have you
what a lucky man
Aloofness tangible
No one looks up
Rushing from
One hearing court
To another
Judges in robes
Looking stern and grim
Lawyers dressed in uniform
Parading in formal gown and collar
Such tension in the air
Everyone here
Has business to tend to
None of it pleasant
I would venture to guess
If these marble floors
Could share the secrets
Of shoes that walked across them
Pacing racing pounding scuffing
Litigation mitigation
Chasing justice of the peace
posted on June 14, 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
My love said to meet him at three
where steaks were the best that could be,
the chophouse.
I waited a long time and then
checked his firm before searching in
the courthouse.
Maybe drinks with clients for biz?
I checked a fave place for this, his
posh clubhouse.
Nothing, was he up to no good
somewhere no man does as he should -
the dollhouse?
There, I saw my beau kiss Miss Snow
so now he is found in Fido's
cold doghouse.
In the lobby of the courthouse
People’s demeanor
Are such a telltale
Casual and comfortable
The secretaries
Determined and debonair
The lawyers
Focused and unperturbed
The judges
And then the others
With scowls on their faces
Nervousness and concern
The weight of accusation
The slow ominous pace
Of being led directly
To the slaughterhouse
posted on July 16, 2019
Remove your watch; take off your belt
And place them in this bin.
Your pockets must be empty
Or we will not let you in.
Then walk through slowly, just in case
There’s metal to detect.
If buzzers sound, security
Will have to then inspect.
The line is long, the day is cold
And so we have to wait,
Though no one there is thrilled one bit
About this courthouse date.
We inch along, then make it through
So coffee’s what I need.
Alas, there’s none inside
And I am frustrated, indeed.
‘Cause there’s no way in hell that I’ll
Repeat that check-in scene.
I’ll have to get through jury duty
Minus my caffeine.
I'm on the road to the courthouse
I'm just trying to get a break
I've been told the house needs fixing
That the work I've done is late
I've tried to stay up with all the codes
Just one slip up and I am fined
I'm on the road to the courthouse
It seems I might be out of time
I used to live out in the country
The rules were few compared to these
A house there could be falling down
Without there being penalties
I soon will know just what he'll say
Will I be found then innocent
Or will it be the piper that I pay
It is the former that I pray
I'm on the road to the courthouse
Hopefully this is the last time I see your face. One last time that I'm on this place. You drug me through the mud, head hung in shame you made my name a disgrace. I just want peace from this pace, a smile returned to my face. Love in a warm heart. Life isn't hard its an art!