Poem: Joy to the Old

It is Christmas time
all around lights are gleaming
When I was young long ago
each day was filled with wonder
family gathered in warmth
spilling into laughter
Was that joy?
I think it was…

It is Christmas time
all around carols playing
Now these bitter winter winds
jingle bells make me shiver
family no longer near
floating home in memory
Is that joy?
Doesn’t feel like it…

It is Christmas time
the tree is half decorated
ornaments sit in broken boxes
garlands twisted into knots
forgotten abandoned
in the silent gloom
Where’s the joy?
Gone far away.

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POEM: Orange Spice

every orange
begins as a blossom
forms into fleshy orbs
of firm juicy delight
carefully peeled
slowly stripped
juicily devoured
in the heat of day

each slice
tenderly moving
from my fingers
to your lips

the tangy zest
saved set aside
left to be dried
mingled with spices
cinnamon
nutmeg
cloves
tickling
teasing
tempting
melding
with loose
dark leaves

You and I
speak softly
of today
tomorrow
and forever

the moment boils
into silver liquid
shimmering steam
whistling eagerly
for some attention
hot splashes
unleash memories
of exotic India
awaken spicy tang
orange blossoms
unfurl reborn
on our tongues
as we savor
this moment
and each other.


Poem: Ruby-days

Ruby-autumn bows her head
sheds her clothes
sheds her crown
takes up ruby-white instead
Ruby-cold pulls us near; wraps us tight
in numbing ruby-kisses
blooming cheeks with snow-brushed
ruby-roses ruby-glowing
in winter’s twinkling ruby-lights

ruby-cold on ruby-noses
ruby-Santa with ruby-wishes
ruby-sparkles on the tree
ruby-hopes to keep us warm

We walk along in ruby-time
ruby-crunching ‘neath our boots
You lean in close ruby-whisper
ruby-spark my ruby-thoughts
calling us home to our ruby-bed
ruby-lips to ruby-touch
caressing ruby-skin
ruby-chest ruby-breasts
ruby-hips on ruby-fire
ruby-bodies laying close

ruby-desires burn all night.


POEM: Cold Reality

Mesquita, repeat ad infinitum

Harvest moon fading away
leaves twirling to the ground
time moves forward
circles in circles
rhythms in rhythms
layers on layers
every day thematic
deja vu of yesterday
last week
last month
last year
in the same pattern
of cold reality

Each morning thinking
today will be different
as it all unfolds
silently unchanged
yet again
to see again
this really is
forever and ever
all there is
for me
wash
rinse
repeat
ad infinitum
ad nauseum


Poem: Well Salted

We slide past
each fully aware
senses aroused
feeling oceans
moving inside
rushing tides
cresting waves
surging depths
churning
yearning
with memories
we haven’t yet made

until all I imagine
is the warm taste of salt
sliding over my tongue.


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