Small on the skyline,
This beautiful ship I’ve launched-
Testing the waters and her seaworthiness.
I stand on shore and strain to see
The sun glint off her sails as they unfurl,
It won’t be long before the horizon
Reaches out and takes her from my sight.

And yet she circles back again,
To the safety of this harbor
Where the ocean gathers calm and still.
But I know the tide is freshening
And the wind is for adventure.
I long to let her glide away but
It hurts too much to open up my fingers,
So I heave and pull on the mooring rope
Striving to keep her next to the pier-
Proud of the way she rides the swells-
Thrilled with the cut of her mainmast-
Excited with visions of where she can go-
Still I’m reluctant to bid her bon voyage.

For I have no ticket - this isn’t my trip,
I’ll have to be happy with postcards
From places mundane and wildly exotic-
Hoping she’s not out at sea too long and
That killer squalls don’t find her.

I’ve built her well - she’s sound and good.
There’s great common sense on the rudder.
The maps are laid out in orderly rows
And her spirit holds steady the sextant.

The tugs on the rope are outdoing my fingers
And I’ve had to begin to let go.
I must save some strength to lift hands in farewell
And keep vision clear through the teardrops.
        ljm

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except waves after rolling waves
breaking with monotony on the shore
swelling and succumbing to sands.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the colour of the water
ever changing in harmony with the sky
and the lives that come ashore alive or dead.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the thunderous silence of night
teeming with silvery moon's glow
and the sprays that kiss like a lover.

Nothing is there to see in the sea
except the one eternal picture of life
birthing in aggression and dying in submission
afloat on the waves of transitory desires.

how you love
the field and the buttercup flowers.

the meadow
and the chase
where love becomes fire.

and it is love

that has brought us here.

a heartache for you, dear doe.

a heartache for me, too.

are you bleeding your heart out
not to be with him
as i am not to be with her?

a prayer.

let the ghosts of heartache
rise in the mists of dawn.

let our heartstrings
stop beating to the same
sorrowful song.

doe in the first light of dawn.

Run to him!

had a dog called Muttley went everywhere with me
every where i went he would keep me company
loved it down the beach on a sunny day
i would throw his ball he just loved to play

running on the  sand having lots of fun
all along the beach Muttley he would run
he was my best friend everything to me
always together he and i would be

muttley he took ill had a fit and died
tore the heart in me i just cried and cried
best friend in the world there could ever be
till the angels came took him away from me

i wont forget my friend that kept me company
every where i went he was there with me
muttley he his safe now no suffering to bare
one day i will join him when the angels take me there

based on a true story of a dog i had

In the end we are the sum
total of the effort we invested,
or conversely our failed deficiency
in that regard. With no one to
appreciate or blame, but ourselves.

Praying again today.
These are the long days,
The ones spent in the quiet pain of waiting,
Of thinking through the things we’ve said,
The things we need still to say.

When the sky was blue on a windless day
the net would stretch they itched to play
the racquets rose and fell in grace
smash and volley in quickened pace.

The three boys ran the hardest race
there was a girl they must impress
among them was the beauty queen
that stole the heart burned the skin.

The wintry noon passed pretty soon
on the blue birthed a crescent moon
a clap from the girl was reward enough
those times of life were fairytale stuff.

On the court in that playful bliss
each boy dreamed the girl was his
by the racing clock went past the days
the field fell empty they parted ways.

If the night is half lit
and the silence is deafening loud
don't stop on the bridge upon Post Canal.

The shadows are rippling dark
and her water coiling snake
calls you to to take a dip.

It's shallow, says the phosphorent whisper
and the night too warm not to splash,
there's too much pain, the bridge creaks
leave behind, leave behind
you haven't anything to lose.

The winds buzz in your heart
disappear without a sound
nobody will know
nobody will care.

A few feet is not a great fall
and never greater than all the pain
you so silently suffered.

Once I stopped, tempted
almost inviting her to **** me in.

The coils rose and drew me in.

They said I jumped.

They could never know
I made peace with pain.

Here lies the dead wishes of men
once alive
the dense shrubs hide the pain
weeds thrive.

Here lies a grieving heart
once much joyous
the windows are broken and hurt
bricks break like glass.

Here lies the power of wealth
once pompous
now in ruined health
seems it wasn't all that precious.

Here lies the remains of heydays
once vibrant
with bones the jackal plays
reminds time is a tyrant.

Here lies moss on the wall
once finely painted
now dark and dull
the air is serpent scented.