Short Unrecorded Poems

you play it to the bone
all ends against the middle
while you are laying back
we dance to your fiddle
always a new song
lyrics unrecorded
as you write each verse
you play against our hearts...

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a sense of place
enchantment..
yesterday mourned
in yew trees
a gentle motion
loud,then soft;
collective memories
of preserved passion,
in abiding love;
rusted...
unrecorded
living days..
                forgotten...

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Moments of clarity stop the clock,
but time rolls on and on

Unrecorded, to stay embedded 
in each wish unfulfilled

Tranquilizing the fleeting doubt 
that truancy sets free

Returning with the future claimed 
—to liberate the past

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2020)...

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empty for centries
forgotten palaces of those
long forgotten themselves
but the city remains
abandoned, yes
but for the wisps
of past events
vibrations that falter not
but resonate with deeds
and history,
unrecorded
home to no one
but the ghosts
of those
still attached in spirit
how many cities
on how many worlds
are home to but
memories unremembered...

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Empty for centuries
Forgotten palaces of those
Long forgotten themselves

But the city remains...
Abandoned, yes..
But by the wisps of past doings
Etched into the forever
Vibrations that falter not,
But resonate with deeds...
and history,
Unrecorded...

Home to no one...
save the ghosts
of those...
Still attached...
in spirit...

How many cities,
How many worlds,
Are home to but
Memories unremembered?...

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My life is a story without the words,
a music song of unwritten chords.
A melody I choose to sing,
tunes I hear that sometimes ring.

My collection of rhyme,
tells the absence of time.
Feelings expressed in a lyric,
so others can hear it.

My anger held in a note,
volume controlled by remote.
The years pass in one bar,
with lessons that I've learned so far.

I play my song,
without a right or wrong.
My verse I hope will never end,
this experience will soon transcend....

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