Moon Shine and Lemon Twists



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A collection of poems in a variety of styles, exploring a variety of subjects. If you're here, you know what I do.


Friday, May 25, 2018

to Dance

To dance, to waltz with you,
This is my dream.
To rest my hand upon your hip
And smell your hair as we spin
Across the floor.
 
You must guide me,
You must lead.
For I don’t know the steps,
Though I hear the music
And feel the beat.
 
But no partner will you find
More willing
To follow and to learn,
More eager to sway with you
Through this life.

Sunday, May 20, 2018

Confusion


I have friends I’ve never met
And many more who live inside
I only go to the beach at night
And find it’s best avoid high tide

I like my whiskey in a short glass
And stories that don’t seem to end
I’m a big fan of being confused
It’s often better not to understand

I’m gonna take it all apart and mix up the pieces
Patch them back together in a new formation
Wrap it all up in red-tinted plastic
And take my case to the United Nations

The face in the mirror always surprises
And no one likes the sound of their own voice
It’s dangerous to step out your front door
But each day brings a new set of choices

I’m gonna take it all apart and mix up the pieces
Patch them back together in a new formation
Wrap it all up in red-tinted plastic
And take my case to the United Nations

Monday, May 14, 2018

I climb a thousand stairs to reach the altar of her kiss


As I dream the dreams of love….

I climb a thousand stairs to reach the altar of her kiss
And always find her there.
She grants my every wish,
And sanctifies me with hair.

She’d not be worthier of my worship
If she lived on Mt. Olympus,
Or sailed a golden ship
On the sea surrounding Paradise.

But she is as humble as a peasant girl,
Content to tend her hearth.
She could be queen of half the world,
But she’s glad to play her smaller part.

So I climb the stairs that lead to her
And fall into her arms, so soft.
We lie before her kitchen fire
And she refills my empty cup.

She holds me as I rest my head,
And listen to her tender, beating heart.
She tells me that our kiss will never end
And that we shall never be apart.

And as I dream the dreams of love
I have never known a greater truth
I have never known a greater truth

Than these sweet dreams of you, my love.

Saturday, May 5, 2018

Mother


She could be kind,
But wasn’t always.
Nor was she always nice
But she certainly did love.
Fiercely, desperately,
Almost violently at times.
Clinging, grasping,
Restricting,
But also, with a tenderness and generosity:
A fearful but sincere love.

So, when you ask if I miss her,
Do you mean the irrational mistrust?
Or the equally irrational blind faith?
Do you mean the way she had of making
Me feel I couldn’t breathe?
Or do you mean the hugs that never ended
And the door that was always open?

Yeah, I miss her.
But not all of her.

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Purpose


There’s no purpose, no reason.
That is, there are reasons, but no Reason.
Things happen and cause other things to happen.
We carom through life, bouncing from one accident to the next,
And each collision sends us (and whoever we collide with) in a new direction.
Vectors and angles,
Momentum and resistance,
Friction, energy, gravity, mass. 
And, yes, sure, we can sometimes lean in one direction,
Steer toward a goal or an objective.
But there are too many variables to be accounted for,
Too many other forces at work, including the other bouncing little humans.
Some attract, some repel, some just float along beside.
About the best you can hope for is to find one who has eyes you want to drink from,
Lips you want to kiss,
Arms you want to be folded in.
If you’ve got that, you’re better off than most.

Saturday, April 21, 2018

Ode on an American Percolator


I’m no Keats, nor fragile Shelley,                                              

Nor even Bukowski or clever Nash.
Still I sing my songs in my own way,
And give, to things I love, high praise.
Although I enjoy toast and jelly,
I generally give breakfast a pass,
Except for my strong, black morning coffee;
Don’t ever ask me to do without that.

I’ve tried several ways of brewing,
And all have their merits, I know it’s true,
But I’ve found the best way of doing
Is the percolator, steady and true,
With mirror-like exterior showing
My reflection, if slightly askew,
As it sits atop the burner’s glowing
And prepares to deliver up its brew.

A perfect design, so simple, so sleek.
“Nature abhors a vacuum”, thankfully.
Boiling water must escape, and so seeks
The one way out, up through the center, you see,
Where gravity comes into play, so to speak.
Now the magic, the wondrous alchemy:
The water’s heat draws out from the ground beans
The elixir of life, or close enough for me.

Science or magic, or simple physics,
In the end, of course, it matters not.
I’m hooked on the rush like any addict,
I need it, steaming, aromatic, hot.
And my percolator delivers it,
Gives me what I need, no matter what.
Later I’ll eat, my stomach will insist,
For now, I need coffee, no “and” or “but”.

Sunday, April 15, 2018

Two lovers come to find new love


Two lovers come to find new love;
Each an imagined image brings,
And each a living lover finds.

Apart they dreamed of this touching;
Together, now, the touch is real.

Over time their two dreams combined,
‘til the imagined and the real
Are now one. 
As he dreamed of her
And she, laying there beside him,
Dreamed the double of his vison.

Or did they each have but one half 
Of a dream longing to be whole?

Awakening, he sees her there
As she watches from amid her
Scattered curls. 
She smiles and he knows
His dream was born in her bright eyes,
And he returns it to her with 
A tender kiss and this poor poem.