10 Monday Sep 2018
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Afterlife, Death, Death Poems, Eternity, Hope, Infinite, Loneliness, Loss, Love, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, Yearning
Sometimes, missing feels like stone,
a fear that what seems over,
really is over. To be alone,
is no small thing, even though,
it seems, we always are.
Between us, an invisible thread
throws itself out, and stretches—
have you seen a silk thread
blowing itself out with the wind,
reaching, reaching—how far it reaches,
attached to nothing, but air.
09 Sunday Sep 2018
Posted in Uncategorized
03 Thursday Sep 2015
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Black Hole, Event Horizon, Germany, Ghandi, Greece, Heaven, Hell, Hope, Iraq, Italy, Light, Love, Milky Way, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Refugees, Souls, Spirits, Supermassive Black Hole, Syria, Turkey
In the center of the Milky Way,
Exists a black hole
Equal to 4.3 million suns.
Its gravity so strong,
There is no light.
We stand on the edge,
An event horizon,
Or, the point of no return,
As refugees push out
And we argue about definitions.
Mothers and fathers,
Children,
Who dream of a good Germany,
A Europe with jobs and new homes.
They launch into black holes:
The Aegean Sea,
The Dark Sea,
Floating back in waves,
Absent of light.
We wonder at this hell,
A place of suffering,
And hope for something beyond,
A better place
Where there is love,
There is light,
Light in a Black Hole.
09 Tuesday Sep 2014
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Four Quartets, Mind, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Souls, T.S. Eliot, The Universe, Time
Only through time is time conquered,
The continual drip and tick,
Of the universe, our souls, our minds,
It ends, like this–
09 Wednesday Jul 2014
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
Crows, Hot Summers, Husbands, John Lennon, John Lennon's Death, Madness, Murder, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Ravens, Red Tail Hawks, Souls, The Atlantic, The Atlantic Magazine, Wives
Everyday, I try to find peace
In a world that killed Lennon;
Not only peace, but poetry.
The skies are open here, broken
Only by straggly stands of Ponderosa,
And, from my place on this earth
I can see the Red Tails hunting
Over the fields, and two crows
Gathering at the barn, for what—
To eat something that’s dead there?
Or, the thing I choose to believe,
A kindred reconnection of souls.
Today, I don’t want to know
The truth. It’s too hot.
Almost 100 degrees and much of what
Was on the verge of madness,
Has gone wholly to madness.
A husband entered a building, killed his wife.
Another man admitted doing the same
Only a short drive away.
Israel is at war, again, with Hamas,
As I sit and read The Atlantic, contemplating
The creative, communal genius of rock stars.
And, trying to find peace in a world
That shot John Lennon four times In the back.
