Monday, February 24, 2014


Once my poems were Latinate,
But now they're Anglo-Saxonate.
Once I found a lot of pleasure
In obscuring every measure.

Now you have no need to scurry
To the nearest dictionary;
I strive to make my verses clear,
With words that please the eye and ear.

Sunday, February 16, 2014

Will they like us out there?

Imagine faring out in space
To represent the human race:
What values would we try to stress
To justify our earthly mess?

Would other forms of life think well
About our planet's living hell,
The brutal wars, the genocide
We wage with patriotic pride?

Would aliens condone our urge
To murder children, and to purge
The men who choose to disagree
With rules decreed by you and me?

Way out there in the universe
Would we find praise - or just a curse?

Monday, February 10, 2014

No second chance

At a country place in late October,
Where trees are dressed in antique colors,
Brilliant bursts of red and ochre overlay
A palimpsest of past pleasures.

Former lovers in the silent house, uneasy,
Wait for remembered tones of a grand piano,
And frustrated by time's passage, strain to hear
Chords played long past, and only half-recalled.
The briefest memory of passion's music
Fails to interrupt the silence.

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

A winter wish

Fraught by weather wan, and weary,
February's days are dreary.
Condemned to freeze this time of year,
The month will not be warm, I fear,
Winter's cold, cruel winds will blow,
With four more weeks of ice and snow,

If I could have one wish for me,
I'd fly down to the southern sea,
Where warm days reign, and song birds sing,
While soft winds sigh, and lovers cling,
Where February's ways are sweet,
Beneath the summer sun's bold heat.