Poems 



Creativity is about exposing one's soul... but hey, life is about the risks you are willing to take.



2009-2014: Alas, nothing the least bit poetic came out of my keyboard.


2008: Some Haiku I did for an IT Leadership Program can be found here.


1975-2007: Work, among other things, conspired against creative writing.


1963-1974: A few early efforts follow...


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Paint a picture of morning--

Grey sky spotted by a few birds;

Drunken branches weaving,

--or perhaps just caught in the

firm grip of a gentle breeze.

Sounds. Sounds of man piercing

the backdrop of nature noises.

Birds mostly.

Sometimes wind;

Sometimes rain or thunder.

But not this morning.

This morning:

Trucks on the Ventura freeway

punctuated by the living room clock.

Cars starting up

people talking

hammers hammering

The new day has begun

It's too late for peaceful silence

It's been too late for years.

The new age has begun.


Get back, people. Get back

to where you once belonged.

To where you can hear the grass

laughing, carressed by the wind's

restless fingers.

To where your eyes aren' stopped by

man's assault on nature.

To where people care about others

as much as they care about themselves.

Look inside yourself.


(29 May 1974)


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Sandcastle 

Sandcastle on some secret shoreline
waiting:
distant footprints, pray, come near.

Wind chiseled walls, sun faded,
still gazing:
upon the waves of lonely tears

Mind-mansion, behind drifts of solitude
hiding:
hopes of love so slow to appear

Flickering shadows in rooms still
glowing:
mirror of self from some other year.

Seabird, unbounded, castle spirit
soaring:
above, beyond --to some future, freer

Sandcastle on some secret shoreline
waiting:
distant footprints, pray, come near.

(23 March 1974)

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Learning --

world reflections through child's eye
truer than textbook
child reflections through world's eye
undisciplined.

righteousness conquers diversity,
curiousity grows cautious;
child becomes old.


(March 22, 1974)


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Tension --


time pushes on the lever of difference

compresses the spring

inch by inch

until it recoils

tearing oneness.


(Mar 21, 1974 in San Gabriel)

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Transition II


the urge to express --

long hidden

behind staid practicality

responds to the beckoning

reaches

for joyous uncertainty

becomes imperative


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Transition --

Somone freed the pendulum from alone
Watched it fly toward together
Caught it at the other side
and kept it there awhile
Then let it go again.

I saw the pendulum at the place
that said "You are the one".
The footing was precarious,
I couldn't reach it from where I was.
I couldn't hold the pendulum there.

It started to fall back
and I waited for it to
come to rest next to me
But it kept falling; back to alone
Lugar Bonita --it was a pretty
place I saw

(Mar 1974 at Mt. Baldy)

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Rapport --

Somewhere deep inside
ideas whisper
feelings murmur
remembering those rare and
exhilerating moments
when superficiality was breached
and the complexities of
two complex beings stood naked
before one another.

Ideas and feelings
not wanting to grow alone
yearning to be heard
listening for the companionship
of kindred ideas and feelings
watching for a smile
a glance
a touch
that says "I understand".



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Everything Beautiful and Good


Everyone striving to find life---

but there are many ways,

there are many paths which

lead to the One Path.


300 million Earths in this galaxy,

and 3 million billion galaxies---

but only one of you

only one of me.


A universe of cultures

of opinions

of feelings

and a life of interactions between them---

everyone striving to find life.


Why must we take offence

at another's best efforts?

why must we strike our sensibilities

against invisible stones?

or jeopardize our own best efforts

by accepting the bitterness around us?


We are our own captives---

prisoners only

because we have eyes

but cannot see.


Because another's criticism

strikes our pride

or because self will takes

offence

at another's best efforts


How do we see?

through a glass, darkly

perhaps

but the glass glitters

from the beautiful

and good things beyond it.


Let us, then, strive to find life

by meeting the world with

the smallest of worldly expectations

but with the greatest patience

and with the greatest appreciation

of everything beautiful and good.


(A
ugust 1967)

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Satyr


Indeed, life. That seems to be our realm,

though the brightness is often mistaken

in the shadows.

But shadows don't last

except in the visions of thought

and in the apparitions of the conjurer.

Both are sorcerers now.

Both contend for their serfdom

both join hands with

Satyr and Babel

to slay young minds.

Deceived by circles, and triangles,

squares and rectangles --of how many colors?

Was it always so?


Once we let fly balloons --toys that grew

smaller and smaller,

as we grew larger and larger.

But now; the spheres we build

in those thoughtless visions

out of the fabric of society

resist belittlement;

grow with the ego to magnificent proportions,

till shadows, gay circles, colorful squares,

merge into Satyr's facade.

Nevermind. The quest has shattered question;

reality or illusion --I never know which--

have successfully hidden essence.


But what I want to know is:

How do you like your green-eyed boys

Mister Life?


(probably 1963)

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Always we move on

Past seashore and restless tide

The grass is greener


A pit of darkness

Surrounds the fool's paradise

Do not fall in it


Blue shadow in life

Happiness gone forever

Time stops for no one


Now human battles

Confusion and lonliness

Behold the morning


Now human battles

Confusion and lonliness

Behold the darkness


Sincere, difficult

Now onward through life I go

Confused, afraid


(March 1963)


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