Wednesday, September 21, 2011

My Daughter's Dance

As though ignorant of gravity,
She'd leap upon my chair,
Begin a jig from knee to knee,
And advise me please beware
Of sneaky, tiny monsters
Hiding here and there.

I held her loosely then,
As she patted on my face,
Tugged a lock of hair again,
And about my temples began to trace
Odd, alien creatures of another race.

Yes, that was of an age,
When to her my words were all-
Certain, sure and sage.
But now she hears new voices call,
From young men- daring, strong, tall.

So when I see a gracious father
Being patient with his sprite,
And cautious not to bother
Her fancy-filled delight-
How magically my arms
Unconsciously grow tight!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


Into that vast, expansive sea,
Known as prose and poetry,
I let some rhyming droplets fall,
In the hope that when the call
For a poet's list is drawn and done,
Perhaps they'll mention me as one.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

SEA AT SATTAHIP (excerpted from the short story "Timing It" from "Soldiers in Siam") see Associated Links on upper left of page.

I stop, pause my normal thoughts and ask,
will I be able for long to keep you
locked within my mind
as I saw you then?
Not casting waves shoreward
by molding them out near your horizon,
building on them, pushing them onward
to slap and bathe the silent, waiting, accepting,
soft, cement-white sand
as other seas I have seen.

Just what was it then?
Some grand power
lifting the whole of your blue-green body
so that your islands sink within you.
And then-
down you come, complete and sure,
and at the water-land's line
a slip of you begins to rise,
then gaining to a leap, arching, tossing off a burst of drops
white and pure into the face of the Southeast Asian sun,
cresting to a carefree plunge, landing cat's paw soft,
skipping up the reaches of sand,
disappearing beneath,
loud as cat's breath.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

The Present and Eternity

Don't tell me you will love me
always and forever.
I'm certain a millenium's
too great for that endeavor.

And neither for a decade,
and neither for a year.
A day is somewhat closer
to reasonably declare.

But say you love me now,
a more realistic claim.
Plus- the present and eternity
are actually the same!

Bambina Bianca

Bianca has such wonder eyes!
Studies well whate'er she spies.
Then-contemplating a brief while,
Decides if she shall cry or smile!

The Poet

The poet's like a busy
ferret in the night.
But words are what he's digging for,
to find and set just right.

And should he pen successfully
on life or love or death,
his words will leap from paper
and pinch away your breath!

Monday, May 2, 2011

An Autumn Afternoon

It was an autumn afternoon;
We drenched our selves in sun;
Had dispensation from our cares;
Enabled reveries to run.

You said there could be peace,
And wouldn't I agree.
I turned my head to face the blaze;
You sipped away your tea.

We were yearning to believe,
This calm were ever present.
We never would be harried,
Be spared of discontent.

When the breeze became a wind,
And clouds were passers-by,
I pulled my jacket tight;
I heard you curse the sky.

Sunday, January 23, 2011


There is a magic in remembrance,
As when we almost met.
The moon was at eye level,
The sun about to set.

You clapped to the musicians,
Who played down by the beach,
Your hips maintained a rhythm,
No pedagogue could teach.

The wind tugged gently at your scarf,
Then hid beneath your hair.
I suddenly had the strangest wish-
I wanted to be air!

But fortunately wise fate,
Refused to bend my way.
And you faded with sweet music,

Into dusk and end of day.

Always the Summer

Is it always the summer,
And a certain mix of light,
Donated by the moon,
To captivate the night?

Isn’t it always the summer?
And accident of place?
You’re where you shouldn’t be-
And beauty’s in that face.

It’s the tyrant side of summer.
It swaddles you in heat.
It weakens words to whispers,
And shackles all retreat.

It is always the summer.
You are a child one day-
Then moon and heat and madness

Whisk innocence away.

Space and Time

In world news the other day,
Some scientists had this to say-
Space, it seems, is made of string,
And likely matter- everything!
This helps explain the space-time curve,
That they have recently observed.

And Time in one direction flows,
As study after study shows;
Steadily it’s future bound,
No chance it will meander ‘round,
Allowing us to mark a route,
Then placidly- in Time- commute.

But should we near the speed of light,
Then Time will slow its steady flight,
Providing us quite possibly,
Youth frozen in eternity,
Where we can in cosmic play,
Enjoy forever and a day.

But you, in humble earthly state,
Prompt science to even more debate.
For, entering your company,
The universe disbands, you see,
And Space and Time begin to gel,
Caused by some irrational spell,

You cast on them- and me as well.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Holding the Cat

Summer’s piercing sunny beams
Beset my backyard deck in streams
Of heat. A monster maple offers shade
But little refuge. Heat continues its cascade.

The cat, outstretched in dreams
And idleness, is oblivious to all, it seems.
Enjoying peace unknown to men
Until it’s time to fight again.

From my door, I envy his disinterest.
I move to cradle him across my chest,
Absorb his strength and confidence.
His eyes respond in feline silence.

Cats could talk had they the means, you know,
But lacking that, they rely on show-
A turn of tail, a nudge, a mew, a glance,
Posturing, a telling stance.

And now, a squirm makes his message clear.
“Loose me, and I’m off from here.
Go tend your business of the day,

I must rest before I seek my prey.”