The History of Love

There is nothing I would change
about my life, even if I could,
because it all brought me to you.

There is nothing I would build,
not from paper, stone or wood,
except that which created me and you.

There is nothing I could say,
even if I should,
that speaks louder than the me in you.

Valentines Card, 2010

Hoping we’ll be old coots,
walking hand in hand,
less so from affection than
to help each other stand.

Hoping we grow old together,
sharing aches and ague,
passing gas without apology,
couldn’t hear that, could you?

Hoping we’re the ancients we love now,
some sagging, gravity the king,
my hair white, yours still red,
some vanity still reigning.

Hoping we’re the elders,
wise and otherwise.
Time remaining all that matters,
all arguments small-sized.

If that future’s not ours,
these days must fit our plans.
Let’s use them up completely,
in every way we can.

Let’s eat unwisely, sometimes
and drink more than is fair.
We’re not rich but we can act so,
at least one day each year.

Today’s that day, for certain.
Which other would we choose?
You’ll always be my Valentine.
You’ll always be my muse.

It's Valentine's Time

I'm working on a lengthier poem for my sweetie, but for now...

I love it when we kiss and
our noses bump and
we laugh

Greed Is Good

Grab hold of all the love available
squeeze it, cherish it, hold it tight,
be greedy about it, go ahead, be a hog,
and then, go looking for some more.

When you’re all full up,
let a little –or a lot- slosh over,
let it spill on your family, your friends,
and then, let some fall on strangers.

Get a grip on all the kindness nearby,
savor it, milk it, taste every morsel,
be ravenous about it, go on, lap it up,
and then, go looking for some more.

When you’re satisfied,
let a little – or a lot – be passed on,
let it go to people near and dear,
and then, let some go to strangers.

Go out - or in - and find some happiness,
wallow in it, feel it, be warmed by its glow,
crave it, cling to it, exult in your joy,
and then, go looking for some more.

When you’re contented,
let a little – or a lot - be shared,
let it be felt by the ones who mean the most,
and then, let some go to strangers.

A Poem from Mike

My precious friend, Mike, is given to writing brilliant poems and sharing them with me, usually with the comment that they "are not very good". He's a very smart guy, my pal, but an idiot when it comes to evaluating his own poetry. As you'll see, his work is heartfelt, touching, and, often, a call to action. This past weekend was Pride weekend in Palm Springs, and Mike and his darling Carol are co-chairs of PFLAG in the area, so we march in the parade every year. This year was especially wonderful, because the high school kids from the Gay Straight Alliance joined us, and they are so energetic, effervescent, and hopeful about the future, and their joy is quite contagious. Anyhow, Mike was telling me about how the two of us are at the age when we are rightfully concentrating on completing our final years with style, compassion and grace. Somehow that moved him to consider the day at hand and he wrote the following:

I hear often the sad opinion
That God no longer talks to us
God is not in his dominion
And one must be autonomous

This is not true for me
God is often guiding my
Life and I often see
Clearly my destiny.

The inner voice has never been
Ambiguous but clear and direct
The way is obvious and open
I never hesitate or introspect.

Defy ignorance and literalism
Abhor bigotry and lazy learning
Celebrate the joy of life’s prism
And good always gaining.

God is always with me.
Directing my feelings and I
Know that he leads me
To where I need to be.

The odd thing is that God said
Do not believe in me but rather
In the goodness that could be
And the hope that beauty and truth


Will be the conquerors of existence.