find your place, a nook, an escape, if even for a moment…

find your place, a nook, an escape, if even for a moment…

Photo by James Wheeler on

on calming waters
the ripples freeze-frame slide and hypnotize
a gull, on a rock, outcrop
two swans act as ostriches of the loch
the simplicity; the serenity;
moves me, sways me, fades me
on calming waters
distorted reflections like impressionist paintings
another world lies, there a-waiting,
to dive in and cleanse my soul,
shed my common clothes-
for a-while,
the hands of the mother, curved earth basin
cupped vessel filled with the universal
for water is life revealed in a mirror
from which we walked, from which we waked
from which we came; yes
on calming waters
a goose and child forage grass-ed edge
unaware of politics or the foibles of men
for this sense ties not to clocks
but perhaps to ancient sun dials,
sweeping ripples, eyes to follow
one by one, out to the horizons
gone, like my words- fallen to the shore
how many have whispered, the worship here before
and let their depths be drowned
for spirit rise, to be cleansed
for the return, to the dominion of men.

only to fall back, into the mud brick laying
the paving, straw and mud, and the modern spoke turning
the drudgery of construct- a yoke
until again
those calming waters call
until then, until that baptismal pause
shall bring renewal, from mother’s hand

notes… so I wrote this in the parking lot of a church, it was raining so I didn’t get out of the car, but this is my spot, right on the franklin lakes reservoir, it is my spring, my fountain, a spot I can go to and escape the every day right under the thumb of the every day, so I recommend you find one… or better two… or nine, sanctuary to let nature drain the stain of normal life off your pelt… it helps…

A couple of poems for a Monday night…

A couple of poems for a Monday night…

ancient antique armor armour
Photo by Maria Pop on

Heck, I admit it, I am on Game of Thrones overload… I binge watched season 7 all day Sunday (man so much happened).  I posted a review of the new season on my media review page (shameless plug here), I thought my brain would just shut off, but just when I think the well has dried up and I am the Sahara incarnate the muse lets me know she is not quite done with me yet (for good, for bad, for worse ? I don’t know)… so I literally wrote these tonight in a fever, well, OK not in a fever, they came to me, one when I was walking Samantha (the dog, I will post photos one of these days), to be fair, she walks herself, she is 10-ish, and the second as I was washing my face, seriously, I started the second poem in my bathroom scrubbing the old face, ah, the muse, she is her own thing and she owns me…



silhouette of tress
Photo by Free Nature Stock on

you are my constellation
bright upon that sky
even in the coming storm
I know your coordinates
your pulsar
a string of light
always close
ever far
from my touch
but always there
when I look,
for I hope when I pass
to transform to light
and join you
in that nightly retreat


tethered by a chord
into this world I did descend
lives and loves, my time is spent
so here I am at the end of such road
an appointment due with no one at all
for you have taken all my friends
I hope that with this single coin
might bear passage
to see them
once again

All looks, likes, comments and the such is greatly appreciated.  Criticism is welcome, how else can one grow ?  be well, spring is upon the land, at least mine, still waiting for the iron grip of this winter to relent… but there was a single dandelion on my lawn… a marker toward the march of summer’s dawn…

sometimes you pause.

sometimes you pause.


upon a dead bird

I did not know your name
or your song
or how long
you have been gone

for I missed you my friend
your peak in flight
now laid here
on unmarked ground
to never know
your voice
or of your sound
your sweet repertory
rests in silence now
the wind animates plumes
like half staff flags
placed upon
this earthen tomb

so for this moment
I take pause
wish you safe passage
into that good night.

notes… we have all seen the occasional dead animal here and there, not sure why this struck me to write, it just did, so,  maybe because I walk by this spot everyday to the office door and notice the little local flocks of birds in their home among the local planted landscaping bushes surrounding what becomes my home most of the time to be honest.  You get used to the little one scratching out existence in this urban-ish environment (Hackensack is very commercial and has the most polluted river in the country).  I cherish my little friends, they help center me, on a bad day, I can walk outside among the cigarette butt ‘garden’ and see how nature deals with everything, it just does, with blind ambition, and there might be a lesson there, if I wasn’t some dumb human.

person holding round smiling emoji board photo
Photo by on

and as always, any thoughts, critical barbs, long diatribes, structural critiques, letters of hate written using the blood of virgins… all is appreciated if not encouraged even.  I do this to hone my craft and myself, and unfortunately I can not escape this form as currently constructed, so I have to rely on outside forces for feedback, as confident as I am I only know mostly everything… (wink)

The battlefield of life.

The battlefield of life.

black steel helmet near black and gray handle sword
Photo by Pixabay on

12.21.2018 “upon these fields…”

upon these fields of lore

where the dead shall walk no more

where the perilous battle fought

when all souls they will succumb

under sword and under feet

their blood remains within this earth


upon these fields of lore

those before me shall walk no more

nor haunt these fields

with voices still

ghosts only in the eyes

of those remaining here


as another shall pass

from this ground to the greatest of halls

I mourn for this one I know too well

for walk this path we all shall know

and mourn the death in the time to come

dedicated, with love, to my uncle, Samuel Goldberg, may you find a righteous endeavor in the next life.

“anna, for lack thereof”

“anna, for lack thereof”

Photo by Pixabay on

I wish
like a bee
that with your sting
you had died
perhaps then
I might be satisfied
but your venom remains
poison in these veins
for all time.

notes… not sure why these words came to me (but they surely did), I was stuck in horrendous traffic this morning to work (2 hours to go 26 miles), so maybe that was the venom, the title is a play on the phrase anaphylactic shock which occurs if you are allergic to bee stings, sure, I could have just hidden that and let a few people catch it… maybe if I had 50,000 followers I might do that, but at this point I am the flower, and you are my pollen spreader, so in the interest of well… interest, I post as such.

music?  crazy japanese fusion stuff…

SiM – Amy

part korn, part ska, part reggae, sometimes auto-tune… cool stuff

Imagining you are a force of nature…

Imagining you are a force of nature…

sky clouds wind windmill
Photo by Tookapic on


might I be the breeze

flowing ever flowing

nothing shall impede

always a path around

a crack, a corner, a curve

I can move the clouds above

or the dunes above the ground

molding the forms with my hands drawn

back – and – forth

roaming the plains and forests

and deserts now,

cross the oceans all seven skies

over ice, directing fog

I fly, slide, glide

the perfect kite

I create my own lift, my own flight

and might I rest for awhile

and settle dust

long slumber is not in my nature

as I must, I must move on

eventual perpetual motion

is the only song

these wispy ears have ever rung.


might I be free

might I like the wind

might I become the breeze

might I be free

notes… an old poetic trope indeed to become a thing of nature or imagine a different form from this, but does that make it droll ? Hell if I know… I just work here.

Music for this occasion (thanks for asking by the way), totally trippy stuff I doubt you have ever heard…

Lush – Sweetness and Light

totally ethereal, spacey, airy… reminds me of Liv from Norway and my long lost friend Jodi whom I lost touch with before this internet age, those were the days, those were special days.