Long Masterwork Poems

War and Peace: That Midst Nations And Nationals

War and Peace, a classical fiction by Leo Tolstoy, first published as Voyna I Mir in 1865–69. This picturesque reflection of early 19th-century Russian culture saw as its...

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I was in a love affair with art, which had lasted for most of my life,
As beauty graces bush tree and field, whenever hued blossoms are rife.

I started painting at a young age, and had...

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Eric Clapton (born March 30, 1945, in Ripley, Surrey, England)
British guitarist who influenced rock.
Later became a famous singer-songwriter.
Clapton was born to a teen mom and a Canadian WWII soldier in England.
His grandparents mostly raised him.
He...

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[This excerpt from a memoir I wrote 20 years ago seems sadly apropos given the recent mass murders and bombings]

This then is where my faith lies:that it will all work out in the long run,...

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Mariah was quite the painter,
oil her favorite medium,
she didn’t do postmodern crap,
old masters showed how it was done.
She made her fame doing portraits,
liked to stream, and paint them online,
soon had half a million watchers
who all...

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WEATHER SAILS

What if the clouds themselves were like sails of a giant
Heavenly ship, its masts the very shafts of ethereal light
Cascading from Nirvana itself, white powders weather wings,
Guiding this planetary blue worlds atmosphere, in the...

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Descending into a mega-mall, the fluorescence blemishes my skin.
There is a twinge in my temples as I approach the makeup counter,
meeting eyes with a woman whose shoes pierce my gait 
and whose artificially white teeth...

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So time goes by and now there's a lot more people,
but they'll all doin' bad things, and not payin' God no
R-E-S-P-E-C-T...well, not all of them are bad--
Old Noah is a good guy, he loves and...

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Watson

“This is a definite, future champion,”
The breeder stated knowingly, as
He’d raised a few.  So, we debated calling him
Sherlock, the royally-held-high detective of all
British literature. “See,” the breeder had added,
“His long ears, nearly touching down
To...

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I was driving down a dirt road
in New York’s backcountry, upstate,
when I came upon a dead-end
near a small dairy farm, sedate.
The farmer must have though me strange,
and inquired if I was lost,
I said,”No, I’m just...

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I never wanted to be your mighty mouthpiece
I never asked to be the morning trumpet
in the troubled town
or the prophet clown
that would be scorned from all around,
I just wanted to be a mason
like my forefathers...

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A remarkable suicide

Johan Borgen 
had an elegant pen and a charming story near his typewriter, but he was also a serious writer who deeply plowed furrow in the landscape of the mind 
His masterwork was...

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I am a cross-stitch masterpiece.
Seen perfect in front, inside a frame;
But messed up and intricate behind.
(You are made beautiful but there is the reality 
that life isn’t perfect with your troubles and battles in it.)

I...

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I was in Eden, when the stars saw and moulded man 
I beheld the achievement of my toils and plan 
I surveyed the ape body beneath my tail of green 
I contemplated the workings of...

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It lurks there, fitfully
around the corner of my mind
and will not show its face
like an April thunderfront, and
scarce aware that winter slipped away
a week ago behind a cloud of consciousness,
reluctantly occludes the air with nebulosity,
a...

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This Rose

This rose reminds me,those days,
Those days you were mine,
Those days I was drunk and you were the wine,
This rose reminds me how I was ready to carry the cross,
Now you and I are history,
And...

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It echoes dull dawn past a long evening.
Dusk is being thawed off like flowering.
Your aegis bore the road to the doorway.
A soft tune for a crucial sweep of sway,

High, grim oaks form a tone of...

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