*
a world ruled
by people living
according
to fear and wants
lots of out of tunes
chords
sit now let’s search
open minded for that
humming
.
.
Nov10
Tag Archives: poem
Nov3
Home Space
*
things cluttered
I move them around
just a bit as to call them
to make a list of prisoners
to make them feel less
lonely as my mind
speaks to them
their language
.
.
Sep30
Worries
*
now I know
it is worries
that separate
me from you
dark lines
in-creasing
may dissipate
as smoke at dusk
.
.
Jul28
Seasons
*
I end up at times
visiting old friends
dinners stretching
.
over time feeding
our souls
the privilege
.
of recalling
the spirit’s
visitations
.
our hearts
a candle burning
quietly
.
steadily shaking
in the evening
breeze leaves
.
we are made to fall
and to die
full of colors
.
when it’s season
.
.
“Not Rosaries Nor Missals” is a collections of poems started on July 2013. This poem comes from that collection.
l
Jul14
Air
*
I don’t think
heaven is upward
.
I don’t think
God is in the sky
but I think
God is in the air
.
when I look
up to the clouds
I fell God is
there up around
.
inside and
everywhere
God is like air
.
. 
.
Jul1
Rhythm
*
as the day ends
I take a last walk
around my own
house stepping
on the garden
grass eyes up
to the clouds
sailing slowly
sending me
the rhythm
I had lacked
.
.
Jun23
Removed
*
under or above
removed from usual
grounds from valleys
to enter quieter realms
stillness and marvel
to be marginal
observing whether
with fish or birds
a new silence
lingering in
eternity
This poem is part of the collection Crossing Riviera.
By the way, in case you wish to give me some feedback based on your experience or instruction, this new Blocks Editor DRIVES ME CRAZY!!! Not sure it works for poems… even the Schedule seems more lengthy and complicated and, sorry for the past few weeks, missing the usual posting time and dates – I was experimenting with the Block Editor! Arrgh…
Jun16
One More Query
*
while we artists
on earth spend days
hardly making
a living as we struggle
to find the right
hues the precise color
to define a day
to portray time tell me
my dear where
you now indulge beauty
where time is
no more what color is
the forever
.
⁃ To Michelle Pelletier –
.
.
Jun8
Superlatives
*
the wildest
is at the bottom
of peace
.
the loneliest
is found among
a crowd
.
the kindest
is yourself forgiving
after rage
.
.
.
Poem from Silente
.
Last week no poems were ever published due to the gravity of George Floyd’s killing and in observance and solidarity of Black Tuesday and Black Lives Matter.
May6
They
*
they panic no one
around the streets
.
no one in their cars
no noise nor pollution
.
they keep the tv loud
letting anger lash out
.
or let despair cover
their trapped bodies
.
they weep the chance
they resist they curse
.
.
.
Apr7
A Place To Be
*
a place where
is no expectations
from others to be
some kind of perfect
god under sunshine
to relax where
everything in its
natural beauty lines up
me not too big
nor too small
for some people
doors where
my key wasn’t fitting
may be one
of my crazy dreams
.
.
.
Reverberations, Unpublished, 2013.
Mar31
Well Defined
*
I will walk away from
the crowds and their buzz
finding an island to float serene
on way away from cravings
looks and strong odors
to my own shadow
well defined
.
.
Poem from the unpublished collection Intertextures – Crossing Rivieras, 2013.
Mar17
Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep…
*
it is right by the side
of the road the Cathedral
In The Pines Cemetery
as if you could just roll
off the side of the road
dead and ready to lay
where there are no fences
but some more noise to
endure or is it a reminder
when the sun hides
at sunset behind red
blood colored clouds
.
Mar10
Running Uphill – The London Hours
*
I will close this page
and put it away
I will have a look
at such light
lingering
I will stand eventually
get up and displace
myself in a busy store
drunk in sounds and souls
I will pick you up
later when this
wind ceases
one more time
running uphill
.
.
From the collection “The London Hours”, 2012.
.
Mar3
Give Shapes To Music
*
my favorite occupation
has been that of
listening to silence
to give shapes
to music singing
with my hands
on top of the colors
that lay already there
to tiptoe in-love
slowing down
my responses
to evade darkness
into the beauty held
inside as the harmony
viable all around
.
.
.
Poem from California Notebooks 01
.
