Dead at the fall
Of the lover’s hour

For the sin
Of love

Venus with
A human soul

I will adore her delicate face,
touch her tender cheek, unguarded.
But it will be her bouquet
that will make me neglect
all else belonging to the moment.

Ascending beyond the Angels,
I will hardly remember
this cold day of January,
as she sleeps here on this branch
blanketed in a dusting of snow.

This cold day,
where I am still
charmed by her visit
last Spring.

The hours seemed to roll along with glee
My partner constantly hugging and kissing me

What a fantastic thrilling and exciting ride
With a fantastic lady right by my side

Wow! What a happy and wonderful day
Better than anything I could think to say

Rolling along hearing the clicking of the train track
I could feel the train suddenly stop and feel my head smack

I woke up and felt myself begin to scream
And finally realized that this was all a dream

I’d just begun the ironing when
I caught him through the window:
four or five medium paces then
a longer one planting his left foot
firmly on to the pavement,
right arm swinging, pendulum limbed.
Street theatre ballet, was it? Cricket!
Bowling, of course, he pulled himself up
with a few short steps then carried on to school.
Next day he was there again,
I just happened to be looking his way.
It was raining hard but that didn’t stop play,
only his blonde hair wasn’t blown back,
but clung tight to his scalp,

I stand able, eager, & ready to jump
impossible mission to swallow lump
muscles primed analogous to pump
prayer for soft landing on mine rump
bereft this johnny come lately trump
petting and donning shock absorber
outsmarts demonic imp with whomp

into the arms of an angel I land safe
& sound given another lease on life
in my heart of hearts diamond in the
rough façade ace of spade wannabe
join culture club all decked out as a
joker in the stack of playing cards.

There's a frog chorus in the woods,
I heard it from whence I stood.
As silence fell, in that forgotten place,
Like a peaceful breeze, I did chase.

As joyous birds sang this fine day,
Resplendent visions on display.
Each chirp a melodious delight,
Echoed in chambers of varied height.

And amidst the mystery of wondrous joy,
A creature slunk in a way so coy.
With hair of snow and fire,
As a predator inspired.

Click click clack clack
Asleep lay back
You race on through time
Over cold iron track.
Click click clack clack
As wild dreams attack
Your tortured soul
There is no going back.
Click click clack clack
Let the darkness like flack
Brighten the moon
That reflects on cold track.
Click click clack clack
As we tear up the track
Over points that divert
With no going back.
Click click clack clack
No use to look back
Your ticket was bought
At your birth way back.

Shaking. Trembling.
on the edge of the branch
dancing in the wind.
quickly, then slowly,
moving sensuously
in time with the motions.
So graceful.
So gentle.
They move rhythmically
in gentle waves.
Holding on tight
to the branches.
Clinging to the
trunks so strong
and sturdy.
Structures made by the beauty of nature.

Can I see a flicker of light here?
I had seen a gloomy dark cloud
Walking in the passage of time.
If I could see cloud filaments,
I shall be resonated with a new hope.

When alive colorful turns of phrases
uttered courtesy my father or mother
whose ability to describe a situation
perfectly verbalized and couched by
a dialect of High German including
some Hebrew and other words now
embolden me - a sexagenarian poet
to embark upon quest shunning aim
buzzfeeding insatiable avocation to
acquire fluency communicating the
tongue spoken by Ashkenazi Jews -
which Semitic peoples populated a
thick trunk line of mine, and crisis
of identity and existentialism rents