Against the swift current, my love, a foundation laid,
like sticks and mud, our bond is built, never swayed.
Each shared moment, a willow branch woven in tight,
holding back the flood of the world with all its might.
Our union grows strong, where the clear waters rest,
a tranquil, deep pool within your loving breast.
The perfect sanctuary, this enlightened nest.

I’ll pen my words soft
As she stands in the shadows;
Her presence inspires and sets my soul free.
I’ll sing to the sunlight,
I’ll sing to the moonbeam,
I’ll sing my song glad for a love that should be.

I sense her each night
As she stands in the shadows.
How near yet how far can a love ever be?
So I’ll sing to the rain,
And I’ll sing to the rainbow,
And sing for the day my love comes close to me.

A little bird came and sat on down
Suddenly it had a sort of frown
On a clay sewer pipe
Next with its little might
Gifted the world a clover leaf crown.

It was the privileged ranks of the school,
Juniors and seniors, whose sturdy labor built.
The origin of those timber ties remains unknown,
But their immense girth and weight were felt.
Carefully stacked, they formed a ten-foot square,
A pyre filled with discarded rubber from Route 110.
Vinnie's Auto Parts willingly served our youthful quest.

Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill,
Eyes vacant stare over pastures white while
Masonry crumbles as do grey stone walls.

No roof to bar night creatures shrill
Or owls to nest, white eggs to lay.
Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill.

Stout pillars stand where gates hung tall
But the lions that crouched atop, long gone as
Masonry crumbles as do grey stone walls.

Black Hallows night come for the thrill,
Phantom coaches, lights, guests, wild music to hear.
Silent, empty now ‘neath snow clad hill.

Buzzy, my uncle, my guide, my best friend,
A special adventure that knows no end.
He drove to a spot where the tarmac was wide,
Where the sky met the earth and the great planes would glide.

The chain-link a barrier, tall, gray, and stark.
He flipped his small cooler right there in the dark.
A fence for a stool—a king's special seat,
To watch the big birds and the rhythmic retreat.

After The Storm

The path, a serpentine and muddy swell,
was hemmed with puddles where the heavens fell.
All things, in colorless and tangled skirts,
hid pools of light where silent wonder
had once embroidered every vibrant hue.
Within the mud, the ancient footprints grew
like hollow smiles that yearned for tears to lie,
as twilight blurred the canvas of the sky.

In a sterile sanctuary, he found a family,
Each soul a shipwrecked vessel seeking safe harbor.
They shared stories of shattered lives,
Told tales of tangled turmoil.
He built bridges from broken bricks,
And together they became a fortress.

The final day dawned, gray and grim.
Goodbyes were a bitter pill to swallow,
A heavy anchor dragging him down.
His heart, a hollow drum, echoed their absence.
Faces that had become mirrors of his own struggle,
Now faded into memories, a distant shore.

I like my poems to stir up the blood,
Don’t want a sermon my brain to flood
I’m old enough now to know my own mind
So please don’t preach, you’ll just waste your time.

Give me tales and songs to rouse up my spirits,
Of Pirates and treasures and worlds without limits,
Of Highwaymen, Footpads in red velvet britches,
Of Phantoms and Spirits that haunt darkened niches.
Tales of tempests that tear the seas surface,
Rain thunder and lightning that rip the skies bodice.

Doctors and nurses with hearts unbound,
nurse aides with curly dark hair are here,
they seem to come from everywhere.
Patients lie in beds so still,
their stories told in whispered will.

Families wait with anxious sighs,
Hoping for news of this loved one's surprise.

The hospital's rhythm, a symphony that plays,
Of healing hands and caring ways.

In every room, a story's spun
Of life, of hope, of battles won.
In the morning, the sun will rise,
And I will see a new day come.