All Times
blue frosting
everywhere
what if we forget
there’s a photograph
somewhere
ages and ages
she’ll share …
if we make it there
will we know
it’s her
lest our minds meander
the broken brick road
may our hearts
beat still
with the rhythm
that defies reason
and gives
us back
a flash
of who
we were
what we
loved
“you, my brown-eyed girl”
TL
Seasons
Summer a sigh
as slumber befalls
the return of rain
are you the same
dust on the frame
print the past
the lessons four
rehearsal run
where’s the eraser
meant to stay
longer
in the sun
before my hair
turned gray
and my mind a maze
leaves are leaving long lines
without a trace of shade
concrete color wash and wear
walked the woods in winter
felt the flurries melt my face
bent down to touch the ground
round and round the colors turn
till green is grass and yellow rings a bell
as bonnets of blue curtsey to the wind
summer yawns and stretches forth
wide awake and walking
barefoot blades running through and through
ask again
are you the same
dust on the frame
print the past
the lessons four
TL
Camelot
followed a winding path
that took me from the streets
to a misty morning
where the greens
wink with dewy diamonds
and the trees whisper, “Hollow”
round the bend
the crows are ever-watchful
of who goes forth
as they strut across the lawn
in tailored tuxedos
down the way
little birds bathe
in left-over rain
before winging away
as a yellow butterfly weaves
between the papered trees
at the crossroads
no turning thought
a bridge of wood beckons further
as castles in the distance
rise and fall
trees are swaying
but none so fair
as the one with locks of hair
that weeps
and brings me still
to the center
of somewhere
far from here
TL
Above the Dirt
passed a Mexican man
on my way to Pasadena
in a glance
his life
no “parade of roses”
he swung his shovel high
like a golfer
in full swing
far from the green
his boots ditch deep
he seemed to see
not trees nor traffic
so spent on digging
out the dirt was he
took no notice of the time
how the sun sat fat
upon his shoulders
the luxuries of life
not his to waste
for he knows
he can be replaced
so he swings his shovel high
it’s “do or die”
TL
Parents
they sat at a table
the three of them
as they always have
the dad, the mom and the daughter
the daughter now 18
she tells us she’s about to be married
to a military man
and how she can’t wait to follow him
from place to place
land to land
as she beams in love’s pure light
her dad doesn’t say too much
his face says it all
her mother smiles
sad smiles
their daughter’s 18
what do you do
you can’t beg
you can’t say, “Please …”
you can’t stowaway
you can’t torture her with tears
you can’t scream or rant or rave
you can’t play the guilt game
you can’t give way
you’ve got to stay
right where you are
so she’ll know how
to find you …
her mother
her father
TL
Shadow
where are you
are you still alive
or did you die alone;
you could have died today
while I went about my way,
I’d have never known
would I have felt the loss
somewhere in the wind
would I weep and not know why
did you send your spirit with me
all that time ago …
for I have felt that it was so
in the smallest moments,
the darkest days
would that you love me still
in the quiet of the night
the stillness of the sea
the moon the same
for you
for me
TL
Meant To Be
“It was meant to be …”
not sure of that
of what that really means,
but I hear it all the time
so what you’re telling me,
albeit from the threshold of a full frig,
is that those folks standing there
holding that cardboard sign, “HUNGRY,”
are where they’re meant to be
or that there are children, a third away,
starving for a grain of rice for it was meant to be
or that schoolchildren, who live in the land of the free,
are fed their three squares in a cafeteria line since it was meant to be
or that a mother would steal food stamps
and be branded a felon for life
cause it was meant to be
or that even in Washington, DC., the homeless sleep
on concrete steps that lead to White Houses
where Declarations were signed and sealed
for it was decreed that was
meant to be
TL
Unknown Stone
is it enough
to fill in
the blanks
with what you have
instead of what you lost
do you really have to know
what you’ve never known before
and what if
what you thought you knew
turns out to be untrue …
like a given name
any given day
does it matter
where you were
or
where you are
can you rest in peace
in this life
or
the next
never knowing
who you really are
TL
Separation
too tired
to sleep
something you said
has me out of bed
past midnight
walking the floor
what a warm cup of milk
won’t spill
there’s so much to say
but never said
do tears tell the time
schoolbag in hand
thought we just met
smiled all day
and shook hands
thought I was doing ok
like I could do this
but what is this
you look at me,
and I look at you
I love you so much …
you’ll never know how much
and you say, in that matter-of-fact way,
“Yes, I do, Mommy,
I do know how much –
you love me
too much”
TL
Dust
painted the wall
red
and it bled
coat after coat
the color high
the color low
would not blend
would not roll
they say red is hard
to get just right
it varies in the light
from a garden rose
to an orchard row
a dance between
a dance below
it takes a step
then takes a turn
before it smokes
and ember burns
“ashes to ashes”
are the masses
who painted high
and painted low
for that perfect pitch
and ever-glow
of stain on glass
no body knows
“then sings my soul”
TL
“Little Boy Blue”
here is a poem
for you
at 4
you don’t know the door
but you will at 18
go far …
and find yourself
don’t be anybody else
don’t be them
be the golden boy
I know you are
the one I saw
that day
running away
or trying to
you’d almost reached the toys
before they came after you
no time for toys
you were there to pick a movie out for rent
and you would
heard you crying in that awful way
heard them yelling at you, blaming you
as if you were a grown man
who had taken their food away
at 4
you don’t know the door
but you will at 18
go far …
TL
Box
when it rained
I’d stick my hand
out the window
for there was no pane
when I walked around
I walked through walls
for there were only beams
when I looked up
I could see the clouds
for there was no lid
when I’d go to leave
I’d just walk on through
for there was no door
no lock to turn
when I returned
glass was glued to the frames
sheetrock divided space
shingles covered clouds
and when I left
I closed the door
and locked it
TL
Warrior
life is strange
just when you think
you’ve got it figured out
you don’t
nothing ever stays
the same
the only constant
is change
to fight against change
is to think that life
can be controlled
but like the retreat and return
of the ocean, life cannot still –
it must constantly churn and swirl
therein lies the beauty
it is the spirit that will not die
no matter the cost or consequence
it is a refusal to hide
for to stay on dry land
and never venture out
is the way of a coward
and it is that breed
that knows no pure joy
or complete sorrow
it is a life lived half
instead of whole
fear makes this so
it is only a brave heart
though it beats with fear
pushes on and does not retreat
and in this noble state
peace is found
TL
Adoption
she looks to be
one and a half
in the photograph
she’s wearing a dress
and small slipper shoes
she’s standing outside
plants behind her
it’s a wallet-size snippet
black and white
not much to see
she fills the frame
a singular form
forcing a toothless smile
somebody took the shot
somebody stuck a sticker on it
a four digit number
of identification
that photograph
that number
was sent out
from Seoul, Korea
to America
Wilbraham, Mass.
a couple there
saw that photograph
of that little girl
and something
about her
reached
out to them
so they bought her
and changed her name
… her life
Nov. 12, 1974
TL