The Price

He didn't want to go. 

Her face,

a ghost's shadow

in the windowpane

pouring grief

through the rain . . . 

Should he remain? 

One last look --

his eyes ached --

or did they burn? 

Was fidelity really

too much

to learn?

Deciphered

Her tests were long

and her riddles were cruel. 

He smiled and he bore it

like a carefree fool. 

But alone, he wept,

heart's river set free,

bursting out of its bounds --

mind tossed at sea.

She marked his work "F"

when it deserved a "B." 

She bestowed an "A"

when it called for a "C." 

She made no sense,

and he gave no sign

of love's fire burning

past reason or rhyme . . . 

while she gamely walked

a very fine line,

love twisting 'round

her heart like a vine. 

Into his eyes

she refused to look;

a declaration of love

his fear would not brook. 

'Round and 'round each spun

the other, insane

with love incognito,

consuming flame. 

Then, one fine day,

the spinning stopped: 

Into his arms,

mad schoolmistress dropped. 

He embraced her and asked,

"What 'grade' will this be?" 

She replied, looking stern,

"An 'F' or a 'D.'" 

With that, he knew

love had won the day --

and never again

did she give him an "A."

Divested

He once spent much time on perfection

to fulfill everyone's predilection. 

With much praise they toyed;

yet his heart they'd avoid,

his life shorn of love's protection.

Love, Elemental

Streams of thought
oceans of meaning
flowing forth
waves cresting
reverie breaking
words escaping
riding the tide
skimming the sand
grains sifting
lines shifting
metaphors mixing
emotions drifting
sinking
softening
melding sand to toe
warmth's overflow . . .
and the conch shells know
love's wind will blow
earth's heat
salty sweet
raw whispers
in their ears.

Heart's String

My heart drags behind me

like an old tin can

attached to a string

that I hold in my hand.  

My string and I

(I'm not ashamed to say)

hold fast to each other

when love goes away. 

Sweetheart's Wish

When you come bounding
over mountain and vale,
please bring some dewdrops in a pail, 

and don't forget Spring's sun and moon,
twilight's "pas de deux"
for an eternal June.  

One

Addiction --

weeping wound

at the juncture of time and space

where "never"

collides with

"now." 

The angels

rush to gather 'round,

heads bowed,

bathing the wound

in their tears,

drenching the soul

with their prayers. 

And the world hurts

in unknowing sympathy,

because this

one

suffers so.

Time Keeper

Time escaping, fleeing my grasp . . . . .

Music weaves loose ends together at last. 

Tones deep, melodic -- Love molded in sound,

Eternity's heartstrings touching ground.

Wild Sorrow

Wild sorrow, exile,

you grow in the dense thicket

ripe with thorns. 

Prickly leaves are yours,

hanging heavy with

all the loves ever loved alone,

all the words never uttered,

pangs of longing

useless to the busy world,

a world unsuspecting

of the million secret deaths within

caused by wild sorrow

and its piercing, untamed fruit,

the thorn.

The Sweet Diana

By love begotten 

By love forgotten 

The way of broken dreams 

With tears besodden 

By pain downtrodden 

Fame isn't what it seems.

What the Rain Knows

The rain, at times,

puts man to shame,

quickly learning

the angles and creases

of the face

it trickles down,

engulfing skin and bone

where last the brow

furrowed,

where last the lips

smiled,

where last the tears

flowed;

ministering, at times,

sooner

than any

human touch

with its cascading, immediate

embrace

of the whole man

at once.

The Smallest

If they don't notice

the wounded bird

fallen from the nest,

how can I expect them

to turn toward me?

Rather, 

I should draw the orphaned bird

close to my own heart,

for he, too, needs warmth --

and God's eye is

already

upon him.

Quickened

Poetry uses inanimate words

to frame reality.

Reality framed by acts of love

breathes living poetry.

Of Worth

The selfish hasten to surrender

what Love rejoices to remember.

Locks Declined

Trust is not mere feeling,

passive plunging down a hill.

Trust is a decision of

"I want to and I will."

Trust is not a guarantee

the other will come through.

Trust is love enough to say,

"I choose to believe in you."
The lock serves well in hostile zones,
accompanied by key,
but trust posts love as sentry,
preferring to be free. 

Strong Arms

When distraught,

it is good to let the

duduk and heavy strings

seep slowly into the soul,

like the strong arms of a father

bending low to lift his child

     up,

          up,

               up

                    to his shoulders,

                         then, with a knowing smile,

                              gently in the air above his head --

transcendence speaking

in no uncertain 

terms.

Montage for a Beloved Soul

Roses for your memories,

scattered with glee at a New York curb,

shower of petals

drifting gently down

upon a soft small face in a carriage,

a toddler pulling a tricycle,

a young child skipping past the Coca-Cola playground,

ice cream dripping on a park bench,

legs dangling.

Roses, fresh and blooming,

roses, pure,

roses, innocent,

roses, bursting with color and life.

Roses, sweet roses, for your

memories.

Faith

There was a feeling

of breathtaking Mom,

white and pink,

radiant sun,

gleaming gold rays,

shining green leaves,

"whoosh" down the slide,

hot pavement,

jelly beach sandals,

sweet cocoa butter lotion,

wide, laughing smiles,

friends just an elbow away,

and the cherishing

kind of love

where a hug could leap out of the arms

naturally,

before the old days

were banished.

I have pursued that

hopeful, glowing spirit

in city streets and cathedrals,

from here even to

Paris.

Wherever that spirit is,

I must be.

I will find it

once again.

My Child

My child

of many Epiphanies past,

this would have been

your ninth season of life.

The tears wash over me today,

as I sit quietly at my window seat

by the trees.

I will water your tree,

little one,

with these tears.

The Builder

Right impulses

drawn forth from a wayward soul,

each impulse springing from 

the deft blow of His chisel,

a new foundation molded from granite,

bedrock at His command.