Rest, Restless Mind

Rest, restless mind.
fear not what you uncover
while under covers 
that do not belong to you.


Dream on 
of laughter and giggles
and first meetings, 
and kisses.


They needn't come true
they seldom do
that's why the poets get paid
in accolades and finger snaps
and go hungry
back into the night.


One bulb illuminates their room
like a beacon, not for ships
but for shifts in thinking.


Torn by dreams
planted by another
but nurtured by your fantasies.
And by questions left 
unanswered - avoided 
as if diseased.


It matters some
but not a lot
to turn the page once more.

Make of Them What You Wish

I've been watching the surf for many months

Trying to find comfort in the ocean breeze.

Comfort does not wash upon the shore. 

I've watched the gulls search for food 

And dolphins frolic between the swells. 

I still go hungry and lack the joy to play. 

I’ve listened to the roar and crash of waters beating against the rocks 

And lapping at the sands. 

It has not been a peaceful lullaby nor a rousing call to arms.

I have learned but one thing, this many months. 

No matter the weather, the season, the time of day or night,

The illumination of stars and moon or a sultry sun, it does not care. 

The waves keep on coming. 

Make of them what you wish. 

Damn you Jimmy Taylor

James Taylor playing on the radio. 

Makes you think of the one you never had. 
And how she got away. 


Never held her hand. 
Or heard her sing the song she promised 
Would haunt you in your sleep. 


Now it haunts you 
Never hearing it 
As you lay fast awake. 


She awakes in a distant morning 
Surrounded by azul waters 
And the tan arms of the man who loves her 
Probably more than you. 


Damn you Jimmy Taylor 
And your guitar strings 
That pull apart the heart.

Candles on A Beach

A line of candles smolder 

on a lonely beach.  

Waves lap closer, 

but they’re just out of reach.

Rocks from the jetty

cast long shadows 

thanks to the white light 

of the full moon.

Fishing boats dot the horizon,

like symmetrical stars 

rising in the night. 

No music, 

save the rumbling surf.

So many bright lights in this darkness 

each illuminates for another. 

As it should be. 

Always. But Sometimes, Never.

Always is forever, 
and most things seldom are. 

Never is not ever, 
and that goes a bit too far.

Sometimes rests between the two, 
with honesty and moderation. 

But sometimes lacks the punch for you, 
and reeks of hesitation.

Friday Distraction

She pulls you toward her,

Like north to south.

She speaks with her eyes,

And blots her mouth.

She clears her throat

In a subtle way

As the waiter takes

The plates away.

You suggest dessert

Or just peruse the list.

Making mental note of the time,

And the several trains you’ve missed.

She beams at the choices

Of chocolates and liqueur,

Of cakes and cobblers 

And other treats that blur.

She is mesmerizing,

Alluring, a pleasant distraction.

Then she startles you 

With her sudden reaction.

“None for me.

Too rich, too sweet, too soon.”

You nod your clouded head,

Still floating like a ballon.

A peck goodnight

Across the cheek.

Your legs still tremble

As you try to speak.

She hushes you, 

Gives a wave, 

And departs across the street.

Red heat flushes through, 

But you did not cave,

And kept it all discrete.