As we sit at a little table
in a mid-priced restaurant
with noise and diners all around
we hardly say a thing

Perhaps others glance at us
misreading the sight they behold
thinking how sad it must be
to become, like us, quiet and old

But we converse in ways unheard
shrugged shoulder, eyes rolled to above
seldom needing any word
to convey our thoughts and love

Death stalks me, cunning and
irreverent, ambushes me
with a deep righteous depression days after
the golden sky set and the morning
arrived with gilded pools of liquid light.

Days grow shorter in the autumn of my years,
there is no point to my pointing, the moon
will always remain long after the end of my days.
Those who will remember me will remember what
they will, perhaps with a trace of kindness before
my ashes will have blown away,

They will receive
Hallmark cards of poems and laugh at the irony.

Out there
In the fields
When farmer’s hoe
Labours into harvest
Which roots were separated from the seeds?

Out there
In the seas
Where fish and man commune
In boiling pots for excrement
What conferences of greedy eating mouths?

Out there
In life
Here and far beyond
When breathe has stopped.
What have we left to show that men were once here?

A NATURAL REFLECTION : updatted
I see my reflection
this Winter day
in the morning mist
cold, still. steel gray
a strange connection
an oddity mystical
of sometime occurrence
of something more than me

I step through the hours
In painful motions slow
my heart beats to the rhythm
of a certain melancholy.
I long for my yesterdays
feel my mortality sharp and clear
and I fear death’s coming
until day breaks away
from night's visions surreal

there are harmonious things
that appear:
the sun in alignment with the cobble-stoned earth
dreams we grasp in our hands, clay and water
visions,
stones do not speak of sepia deafness,
rites of passage do not wear peacock plumes

we are Omo people, wed to the spirit of earth,
wild flowers,
rivers of devotion.

Every once in a while, I revisit this youtube... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsYPBRy8ljQ

People are unreasonable,illlogical and self centered. Love them anyway....

If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish interior motives. Do good anyway....

If you are successful,you win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway....

The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway....

What you spend years building may be destroyed over night. Build anyway....

People really need may attack you if you help them. Help people anyway...

Lightening always precedes sound
It burns all first,
Then we cry a sound of pain,
Where has the fire gone?
Alas all in vain!

secrets

I am foreign
among your petals
breathing deeply.
softly sighing
brain eruptions
tiny tingling deaths
intubate me
with kisses slow,
being is believing.
sniffling surreptitiously
dandelion fuzz
on fluttering fingers.

(following http://new.neopoet.com/node/encore )

..the phony development
of a pseudo-love
cloaking a true love.

awakened-
by the frantic applause
as I approach the end,
the closure
of yet another act.

I must walk
towards you
lean in
touch your lips
and pretend, for it to be true.
ironically, my efforts lie
in convincing you, that it’s a lie.

Grandpa once said to me
When wind tosses our canoe
I should not come out to peep
What he said entered one ear
And came out of the other

When the wind blew hard
The canoe tossed up and down
This canoe in the sea of life
I came out in defiance to look
O! Grandpa was right

I saw the wind riding the storm
A shifting hurricane so terrible
Whirlwind in destructive spree
Wind has neither friend nor foe
O! Grandpa was right