Birthday Poem for Dad - March 1, 2014

Seventy-three, oh to be just twenty-three, 

though never has this wish come to your mind.

Full of vitality, laughter, love and passion,

your age never does reflect your fashion. 

Since you know your life was designed,

by our Heavenly Father, who sent you

to God-fearing parents in relation to

a loving grandmother who always knew

you were her special sugar,

fast as a pistol from Ruger.

Now your time on earth sublime

is just as fun as on day one.

You are loved by all who know you,

due to your analytical review

of all that life shares with us

from the fearful to the trusts.

May your future continue to be bright--

if you experience a minor slight

of hand, may your hope still be as grand.

And may you have all your birthday wishes 

and as many birthdays as you wish.

Happy Birthday Dad!

73 & Sharp as Can BE!                         

A Poem for My Father

heavy as honey
full as an ocean
the waves from your throat
reverberate,
rotating every cell
as they travel through my spine
into my core

thick as rain
smooth as the skin behind your ears
the wisdom from your past
seeps into my present thoughts
lifting the dense fog in my mind

where there was black and grey
in an instant there is clarity
colors combining
now only white exists

as each vulnerability is exposed
my inner self rises higher and higher
until I am no longer in my stiff chair
but flying above the conversation
seeking a place to
re-evaluate
re-examine
re-arrange
my faulty conclusions

Weightless contemplation
is the un-seen side effect
of your tone.

A poem for T.H.

In the darkness,
you reach over to feel
my lips as you toss crunchy,
salty, sweet pieces of your heart
into my mouth.
While the plot is moving forward,
we are nose to nose;
and I'm not making it easy on you.


In the absence,
you trace my life-line with your fingertips,
soft and moist, thick with skin and bone.
I feel younger with each stroke,
like you are removing the heavy years
with every gentle graze,
until I am a virgin Cinderella,
and you my handsome prince,
the hero anxious to kiss my hand.
Though we practice lifts like ballroom dancers
between aisles of greeting cards,
I feel like we are at the finest banquet
experiencing our first taste of movement,
with saffron petticoats reflected in gold trimmed mirrors.


Out of the light,
with only my toes keeping me on earth
and your lips pulling me toward heaven,
I feel a glimpse of eternity
in the wonder
of a first kiss.

meTa4s

I'm feeling very forgotten. Like I'm the cell phone that was left on the nightstand. No one likes to be without their cell phone. And I think the world should not like to be without me.

I'm feeling very misplaced. Like I'm the red sock mixed in with all the white socks. No one wants a red sock in their white sock laundry. And I feel like no one wants me.

I wish I felt more passion. Like I was the pinapple in your chinese sweet and sour chicken.

I wish I felt more connected. Like I was the shirt on the laundry line, unique from all the rest, but feeling the same breeze between my sleeves.

I wish I'd fall in love. Like I could be the vine aching for the sun to warm the fuzz on my leaves and longing for my love through the cold, dark nights.

Now, I'm feeling more myself. Like I am the ocean, who doesn't force the waves to beat rythmically on the sand, nor concentrate hard to blow the wind, it simply is the water, the waves, the wind, and the sand moving together to be the sea.