Long Memoried Poems

This story remains unfinished
as do all the best tales told.
Yet I must warn you
it has a happy healthy ending,
not dystopian,
although not a finished
political wealth utopia, 
Ever After LoveLife;
warm accompaniment
trusted energy of democracy

Where this power story...

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To glimpse the camel-litter, Qais no longer with his madness strains
The yearnings of the heart are dead, the heart itself is cold; so we;
And desolation fills our house for shines not there the Light of...

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Heart is where my home finds graceful relationship,
where my soul simply breathes
beneath my memories of becoming,
of being at my best,
sometimes my worst,
but always my most full, complete,
most abundantly contentious 
and both loudly out 
and quietly...

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Notes to Veterans

Dear Veteran:
Year after year history fades, shifts, growing dimmer to our memories.
Yet a Warrior’s experiences keep fresh as just a moment ago.
Scars remain tender, losses held sacred and too often unspoken.
I know that...

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A jumping busied house of love now felt empty is this nest... 
That was a parental test, no more noise but empty feelings of one yearning 
times now lost but to fare fond memories. 

Feelings...

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She associated awe with unvoiced age.

Her son often enthused
about awesome tech-paced change,
empowering opportunity,
but, for her,
youth is an age for voicing wonder
as elders remember awesome quiet connection
back with memoried Time.

She found elder awe memories,
structures,
originating imprints,
in trees...

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TAJ MAHAL

In this October day, as usual,
Late  in  reaching  fulfillments
Memoried  paths  resenting familiarity
Historied tracks crumbling
A cloud-shred trailing a mass to merge
I walk into Taj and stop to find
Adorned love placed...

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Old Blooms Will Slowly Fade


Old blooms will slowly fade but never die
at the edge of darkness’s waning light
for love will warm them always with its sigh
deny the stinging truth of flowered lie
caress them in memoried...

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I’m a titch like a detritivous dust-mite,
Yet taller than a boiler-hauled trawler.
Little like the winter mice’ whittling bites,
Brained bigger than a floor-fallen brawler.

I have stories smaller than memoried whales,
More shallow than trills of the trenches...

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The Splintered Door

She shed but one cold tear.
The splintered door slammed
shrieking on its twisted hinges-
aftermath of “loving’s” binges.

The tear hung over a life
squandered on hopeful lies.
Death’s whimper crept across her smile.
How had her independence turned...

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the wood would drift as driftwood would do
o'er waters nearly still, but still kept to move
and drift me away from being near you
alignment cast to space too swiftly removed

to horizon flattened and to curvature beyond
the...

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