Category: Poems – people

My Parents Goodbye’s



It was a surprise attack

No, it was a sneak attack

Damn those heart attacks

I never said goodbye


I was a teenager

Father was a salesman

His last day he worried about the numbers

The next day he was and worried no more

I never said goodbye


I remember him in bits and pieces

Like a box of popcorn

The only memories are the bits and pieces left on your shirt

I never said goodbye



Her way to exit

Was no surprise attack


Cancer, like a cat, plays with you

The game had several rounds

Lasted years


We said goodbye

In that final hour I stroked her leg

I felt like a seven year old

Holding on to her dress

Don’t lose me Mom

We said goodbye


Father and Mother

Mother’s long goodbye

Father’s quick exit

I realize now

Life is one long goodbye

Final words

Are in the living




She danced

Holding her dress


He danced

Holding her heart



A moment

A celebration

A birth

A birth of joy


The young

Alcohol excited their exuberance


The old

Alcohol excites their memories


The band plays on

Playing songs that vibrate a chord

A chord in us all

The chord that all is precious

Laughter and tears

Are heard between sets


Weddings are a precious gift

Between life’s sets


*Dedicated to Mandy and Brian



 I sat under the stars on a warm night

With friends

The stars listened

They have heard and seen so much

Those stars know a lot about me

About my friends

Those stars heard

The sounds of my ancestors

But stars fail to realize

That they too, will disappear



At times

Most times

I long

To be alone

At times

Most times

I’m insulted

By a knock on the door

At times

Some times

I enjoy

The company of friends

But understand this

All times

Every day

I crave my solitude

The clock and I

Have a relationship

We do not like to share

Time is a very jealous friend

Being alone is time absorbed

Absorbed alone with my universe

It’s how I share this galaxy

So say it again

And again

At times

Most times

I long

To be alone

To be alone

Is the sum

Of me

Of me

Missing you

Talk To Me Baby

Talk to me baby

I’m tired of my voice

Talk to me baby

My thoughts have no choice


The bartender pours

While he ponders my look

I simply wrote my desires

Tonight that will be my book


To hold a beautiful woman

Delivers the brain to flesh

Words are useless in that moment

Darling it’s you, not the dress


Talk to me baby

I’m tired of my voice

Talk to me baby

My thoughts have no choice


Talk to me baby

I have spent all my cares

Talk to me baby

I’m the only one listening to your prayers


My love, after dinner

There are two things left on my plate

One is love

The other is hate


I write words that need to escape

I read words that seek a home

My muse sits on my shoulder

I realize he’s on loan


Talk to me baby

I’m tired of my voice

Talk to me baby

My thoughts have no choice



Give them names

The hungry, the homeless, the beaten

Give them names

The dissenters, migrants and war weary mothers






Give them names

The jobless, the jailed, the fanatics

Give them names

The orphans, the dying, the poor






Give them support

a home, dignity, work

Give them a reason

Share your humanity, your voice, your talents






Give them your vote

Your activism, your government

Give them peace

Oppose wars, discrimination and greed






Give them a name




What young man doesn’t like to roam the desert

Hot and sultry

So many hills and curves to hide in

Territory constantly being searched.

The search for the oasis

is exhausting

But it hardens most men

Shrubs hide the well

The well of pleasure and life

Old men also roam the desert

The hills and curves are oh so familiar

It offers comfort

A place of rest

A place of restoration

The softness of the well

Compliments his own softness

The well of pleasure and life




Get up, look back, a beautiful mess

Non better then an unmade bed

Thoughts of who took off that dress

When worries left my head

Rapt in the unkept

Room for discord

Such a joy



Three Valves

Three Valves *

All he needs

Are three valves of expression


gently closed in invocation


holding an external exclamation


verbalize a vibration

His face shows years of creating

Tuffs of gray border brass

His body aged with intonation

Swaying swing 

                Sharing song

                              Spirits’ slang

Freedom from timidity

A story is spoken

With notes and love and soul 

Sounds that paint a picture

Colors patch a canvas of cadence

Listen, see the psalm 

Thank you trumpet man

Your vibrations reverberate



Universe of jazz



We laid in bed

Our hands in a clasp

I drifted into sleep

Holding on to my dream