Second Again

Valentines Day Again

You are at your very, very best 

when I am at my very, very worst.

I came to you a tangled string, and

you patiently worked to

straighten me out,

while I held fast 

to my unhappiness.

Now, nearly fifty years on,

I have fallen in love many, many times...

...always with you...

and I know to a certainty,

I will love you forever, 

but not a second longer.

Again

Thinking Again

All things start in thought.

What is your legacy? 

I have chosen faith,

thinking on purpose,

heeding my own truth,

less push and pull,

more flow,

living as a warrior of compassion.

I have also chosen hope,

though hope alone is not 

a solid growth plan.

Growth happens 

one choice at a time,

though I am happiest when 

I appreciate what I have already,

what I can do now,

what works today.

More, bigger, better don’t move me. 

Gratitude for what I have does that.

I am not too old to

have goals and dreams,

I just find simplifying to be

a good idea,

a satisfying approach.

I have no need to

fix my life,

only to savor it,

to celebrate it,

to remember to pray 

when things are going well.

More Directions

(Optional)

For some,

if there are no penalties,

punishments, fines,

then directions aren’t ironclad,

just merely guidelines.

And that is why 

some hearty soups turn

into casseroles,

and two loaves of bread become

a dozen dinner rolls,

and a new swing set becomes

a darling pair of chairs,

and some marriages devolve

into sordid affairs.

Ray Bradbury’s Directions

One night at a 

A street fair in Palm Springs,

when asked about how 

a new writer might succeed,

he said, it’s quite simple,

and all that you need

are three things:

First, carry paper and pen,

and don’t mess around.

When a idea strikes, don’t wait,

write it down,

write it down,

write it down.

Second, as much as you can,

get up early, 

get to work,

get a plan.

Early starts will brighten your mood,

and your work usually turns for the good.

He started to leave when 

reminded he’d said there were three,

came back, said thanks

for reminding me.

Most importantly, 

if a sound sleep you choose,

never, ever, ever,

watch the late night news.

Direction

East

Those of us who have

been to war

know there’s no such thing

as evening their score,

though, sitting now 

in a chemo lab, 

with thoughts of remorse,

sadness, shame and more,

I’ll take what solace I can grab,

pleased with any balance

I perchance score.

Through years of anger,

guilt, regret, I’ve yearned

for peace, forgiveness, yet

with memories forever burned,

as those who don’t know me

thank me for my service,

with no idea how it feels,

how much it makes me nervous.

I’ve forgiven myself 

a thousand times at least.

I’ll do so again today, 

quite possibly tomorrow,

the memory a determined beast,

the memory of a distant East.

Complete (blank)

Complete Freedom 

Today is so very special. 

New Beginnings always are.

Even when pain is so complete 

that all else vanishes, 

I have learned that there is

but one answer...be still.

I learned to live with pain,

some of it complete.

If I could transfer this learning,

would that help Make America Love Again?

One’s body is really nothing

more than thought itself.,

and everything is temporary.

It’s helpful to see that as the Truth.

Let that be enough.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. 

You deserve to be forgiven, pain-free.

Completely.

Life is wild, wonderful,

completely in process.

So, out your doubt,

send it packing.

Seek your healing thought 

within yourself. 

Only the heart can see 

that which is really essential.

Something Good is about to happen.

The eyes are not useful to see this,

since the really essential is invisible.

Peace requires one to look within,

surrender the drama.

Be calm and realize

you’ve done all that you can do.

Free again

Not Treed, I am Freed to

Pause,

Breathe,

Accept,

Release,

Forgive,

Be Kind,

Repeat.

Free

Freedom of Religion

Thank you for extending 

your love and hope.

Feel free to keep doing so,

but if you see me, really see me, 

please don’t always

feel the need to tell me.

When my lips are closed,

it does not mean, every time,

that it’s your turn to speak.

When my lips are closed,

there’s more room 

for my heart to speak.

Even when you see me crying, 

it doesn’t always mean I need help.

Spirit speaks quietly to me.

Most out-loud sounds are only noise.

Even though most yearning hearts ask,

can we still speak to God,

I prefer to sit in silence,

listening for my stage directions

from the Universe.

All is well and I am grateful.

Correspondence

Intentions

Telling stories can be healing,

listening to them as well.

No poem is accidental, for me.

Every poem I write

needed to be written, by me.

They are the stories of my passage.

Poems are where my life

goes to be remembered,

where I recall the love 

which surrounds me, 

also where I accept being slighted,

forgotten, disliked,

where I accept insults and injuries,

and how I strive to be gentle, helpful,

even under provocation.

Every poem I write is

a battle to reveal myself,

it being so difficult to reach

into the realm of silent tears.

Every poem, at its beginning,

is a mystery to unravel.

Every poem, at its conclusion,

is a mission accomplished.

Little Things

Little Did I Know

the joy that might arrive

as I took steps to stay alive,

finding hope in our monthly drive

to that place where I knew I’d thrive,

trusting science as much as love,

knowing the two work hand in glove,

both parts of the Spiritual Truth of

a Divine download from above,

with treatments all first-rate,

only assurance need I create,

keeping my mind in solid state,

and I’d say, so far, so great.

Reasons

Not to Overthink It, But

Your head gives you reasons,

your heart is your guide,

positive choices

within you reside.

Know yourself,

follow your heart,

but don’t just sit there,

we each play a part.

Not the reason to do so,

no purpose, and yet,

the more that you give,

the more that you get.

I’ve never believed,

at least not so far,

all things happen for a reason,

no, some things just are.

When I can't figure out why,

it’s not something tragic.

If I don’t know why something works,

I assume, simply magic,

like calling a friend,

just being there,

a simple act of kindness,

a heaven sent prayer.

Anticipation

Anticipation 

Approaching sunset now, the dawn

too many years behind. The night 

waits, lingering behind the evening star.

It was noon a mere while ago,

brightly shining with hope,

plans made with future surety,

more time than dreams to fill it.

Time spent seems but trumpery

when placed beside time remaining,

too much wastage, squandered

could haves, elusive promises.

Five or seven friends yet remain, 

a thousand cronies gone the way of fumes, 

still time for eight or nine, likely no more.

Poems have always seemed like 

words in flight, now more earthly,

too often murky, poets in high dudgeon,

even as they confuse sunset for the dawn.

Still, there’s work to do.

Also time to do it.

Living in the past yields little that is good,

mostly excuses, redrafted memories and

rust-pitted trophies. 

Future has a sense of promise, of mission,

though too many maybe’s as well. 

What’s left is now, 

today, this moment, as the sun sets, 

dawn and dark of night 

the same gift of opportunity, 

like a poem, 

somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.

California Dreams

California Dreams 

Here I am, 

in California,

at 74.

Mister Rogers died

in Pennsylvania,

just 74.

Natural causes they said.

(complicated by cancer)

Not sure where I’ll be 

at 75.

Not sure if I’ll be.

(complicated by who knows)

Pretty sure I’ll be right here, but

man plans, God laughs,

No matter who I am.

No matter how I am.

No matter where I am.

The Art of Peace

The Art of Peace

Peace on earth, yes, but first start 

with peace in your mind, in your heart.

Even as you function as compassion in motion,

thinking you’re but a drop of water in an ocean, 

be strong, confident, at ease,

knowing the battle’s won, wage peace.

With peace, like love, normal rules don’t apply.

Laugh at rejections, false failures. They lie.

Just do your best, be present, show up,

you’ll soon measure the Good in your loving cup.

Peace abides, choose hope, open your heart,

see the Good in everyone, it’s your best start.

Capital F Friends

Capital F Friends

I can’t imagine life without friends,

absent them, there would be no me,

alone, my profile would be nothing to see.

Much of me reflects them, I’m sure,

solo, I might go on, but in no way as pure.

Fabulous friends sharing values,

and interests, really close, true.

We screen movies, talk books,

write poems, compare cooks,

paint and eat lunch, 

split the bill when it’s paid.

With some of them, I’ve even

marched with pride in parades.

Too many friends are gone now, 

some dead, others simply away.

There’s one monk in an abbey,

whose courage I envy,

and I mention her often,

usually once every day.

Lovely neighbors, tossing newspapers I forget, 

yet they don’t visit uninvited, at least not yet.

My friends back east are very clear

about what matters, what is dear;

it’s family, and friends who matter most,

kept close at hand, in hearts, so near.

I have old friends who will not see 

this year’s end. Sad, but how it must be.

I’ll grieve a little, but then I’ll smile,

glad we were friends for such a long while.

Memories fade, I know this is true,

yet friends stay in focus and

I’m so glad I’ve had a few.