Archive | Poetry

Fine Wine

            Fine Wine

             We have bound and gagged the bird
             who would carry the olive branch
             to the heads of state
             guarding vehemently their fragile egos.
             Guarding so that the horrors
             of retaliation would not
             devastate their souls
             for stealing the young sons
             who had no knowledge and no chance.

             Where is the king
             who would avow his peace
             that others would live symbolically
             in love with the dove?

             Now. . . . here is the chance
             and the time where love
             cancels the errors and begs
             unconditionally for forgiveness.
             We've taken what was most cherished
             and crushed to death

             what would have been fine wine.
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Even If

              Even If . . . . .

              If you sing this song with me,
              then follow the words
              for they are gentle
              and full of meaning.

             They will take you to places         
              far from here
              and show you your heart's yearnings
              and help you to understand
              the 'why' that plagues
              your days and nights.

               So sing this song
               even if the words
               are slow in coming
               and even if the melody
               is new and different.
               For in the difference
               you will find a new world
               taking shape
               and in the harmony of it all

               you will find your place.
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Because It Is

                                     Because It Is

                                     You cannot dream things that never were
                                     for in a sometime and a somewhere
                                     they've taken place and left their indelible memory
                                     on your mind.

                                     Only to be remembered when a slim shadow
                                     casts its spell across your life
                                     and causes you to bring forth a relic,
                                     a piece of the dream that had its substance
                                     in a far time when love was pocketed
                                     near your heart and brought forth to heal
                                     a wound, to make life complete.

                                     Never to question why or why not.
                                     Simply because it is.
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Meditation

Come with me to this place
I visit often, hidden behind an eyelash;
where it is Easter all the time and
rebirth is not a sometime thing; where
gods cavort in joyous abandon.
        Come, we dance. . . .                       

Today the world stood still. In the
bright afternoon sun I saw a butterfly
dart into a spider's web woven between
the power lines and lift it up and carry
it with him.

In the silence I heard the question.

How heavy is a spider's web on a butterfly's wing?

Since everything is balanced,
the question is proportional.
A friend said to me, 'only you had eyes to see it.'
Does the world stand still for you? Ever?
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