S O N G S

I remember thousands of songs
Songs from my childhood
Songs from when my heart was tender
Songs from when, al fin
I found my own true voice

The rhyme and rhythm of each
Catches something of that era
And I revert to who I was
When the words and melodies
Were etched forever in memory

The anguish of torch songs
Balm to my often bruised heart
Sophisticated lyrics of Cole Porter
Dressed my poor emotions
In the glitter of Broadway

I recall verses of bawdy songs
And many nonsense ditties
Which make my grandsons giggle
Much to their mother's dismay
I can't please everyone, now can I?

FROM NATURE

I find solace looking at the sea

Each wave’s retreat from a beach

Carries away with it my troubles

Leaving me at peace

Some sites do this so well

They remain as revered shrines

Destinations for future pilgrimages

The Shrine of Limantour

The Shrine of Point Lobos

The Shrine of Timber Cove

The sea’s moods are infinite

Each admirable view, unique

Forever providing hints of

My place in the cosmos

TRUTH

It is getting so we can only discuss natural phenomena in their own limited context. This must be driving philosophers crazy. “True” statements are now only true in their own neighborhood. At the onset of the scientific revolution, there was optimism that we would soon understand much about the universe and our place in it. Even after Einstein’s General Relativity, we still had hope. But, with Quantum Mechanics the ground beneath our feet began to crumble and Heisenberg only added to the uncertainty. Now, gravity has turned too strange to contemplate and the enigmatic dark matter and dark energy have in our time become the leading actors in our play. Ordinary matter and energy? Only bit players. So, what is our play about? Who the hell knows?

EYES CLOSED

Why do we close our eyes to see deeper? Can
I perceive what I feel for you with open eyes?
No, I must close my eyes and lay my ear upon
your breast. I must hear the beating of your
heart. I must touch you, in order to know how
deeply you have touched me.

A WOMAN

Never made love to a woman
Too near her to see but a part
The curve of her bosom
Played a tune in my heart
Along the track of a nerve
My hand and my cheek
Fit each perfect curve
With no effort to seek
For this we’re blessed with touch?
May be assuming too much.

TINY HANDS

Now, shorn of indifference, I, the aged warrior, found my heart overgrown with memories. Tears come easily. Not the nurse’s hips but the infant’s tiny hands bid interest rouse and follow the rolling perambulator. The suffering of others is personal with me. Who would have guessed?

Fellowship of Learners

MY STORY

Does a grain of sand
Know about a beach
The meaning of my life
Lies far beyond my reach
Deep inside my bones
As sure as I am me
My story is somehow
The cause of all you see

UNSUNG HEROES

Once I thought on it

It seemed so unfair

That very short words

Are called upon

To carry such heavy loads

We, us, our, them

Crucial facts for sure

I doubt they were told

On leaving home they

Would be burdened

With such responsibility

Matters of great import

Perhaps life or death

Or the ruins of a ravaged heart

They seem so ill equipped

Their shoulders puny small

Their backs incapable of

But like heaving Atlas

They steadfastly bear

Their ridiculous loads

With not a word of complaint

GOOD MORNING

Today I just turned eighty
My musings are thus weighty
I know which today it is
By what my pillbox say it is
I never thought to trod the stage
So long as this held-over age
And though my carcass isn’t well
I think I’ll hang around a spell
For each new day unwraps a zing
I wo’d not a missed for anything

OTHERS

Why is sharing my world
With someone else
More pleasurable than
Savoring it all alone?
And why is it so hard to find
Someone with whom
To go to the beach today?

TOURISTS

Really, don’t you think
That it’s rather queer
That folks will fly
A thousand miles
To buy a souvenir.

Souvenirs are mementos
Of long absent years
When picturesque things
Once graced this place
That now sells souvenirs.

My World

We each are in a different dimension,
When inward we focus our attention.
How do we then conspire to share,
An outer world we feel is there?

Anti-War Vigil

Protesting a criminal war
Won’t move a tyrant’s heart.
But hands holding tapers
Are common will shapers.
Surf pounding upon the land,
In time grinds rock to sand.

Evangelist

On the sidewalk of a busy street, I was stopped by an intense young man, who assured me that if I would but believe in Jesus. The almighty would then make me whole when the blows of remorseless fate overwhelmed my weary soul. He knew beyond a doubt, he said, I walked my path in constant dread of that terror-filled last gasp. But faith in Christ would melt all fear away like sun the morning mist and gain for me eternity in the land of unending bliss. I, recalling paradox of quantum, the enigma--gravity, Dr. Heisenberg’s uncertainty, the maze of the human heart, was embarrassed by this arrogance; He, a mortal, presuming to comprehend, the intentions of the universe.