Black and White Photograph

2/17/1984 (revised 5/27/05)

Soft noise,
Loud voice,
Cold light,
Long night.

I awoke,
Grabbed a smoke,
Walked out,
You shout.

Hit the street
Hurt, my feet
Roamed away,
Gone a day.

Loud noise,
Soft voice.
Hard light,
Cold night.

Silent Shadows

3/8/1986

Silent Shadows,
speak to me.
Tell me stories,
talk me free.

Whisper secrets
in my ear.
Tell me tales;
I want fear.

Tell me stories
full of spite.
Tell me stories;
tell all night.

Weave a nightmare,
speak of pain,
until the sunrise
comes again.

And morning gilds
the shadows bright.
And I am done
with fearful night.

---

So, this is a piece I wrote a long time ago.  Speaks of my love of the good horror story (and dark fantasy).

I did have three other endings which I wrote, scratched out, and settled on the one above, but you know me, still second guessing myself.

Do you like these other ones better?

Option #1

Until at last
when I awake;
nightmares past,
the Shadows break.

or this one:

Option #2

And morning crowds
the shadows down.
The fear I’ve lost.
The strength I’ve found.

or there is this final option:

Option #3

And morning makes
the Shadows weak.
The Silent Shadows
cease to speak.

You Shine

5/25/2005

You shine
Like the water rippling
You shine
Like the incandescent flame

You shine
With an inner radiance
You shine
As you share your inner grace

I stand and watch your reflection
Mirrored in the eyes I see
Your fluidity, perfection,
And melodic harmony

Belie a deeper call,
A spirituality
That inspire contemplation
Of my mediocrity.

You shine
As you calm the raging wind
You shine
As you calm the spirit within

You shine
Bring me to my higher power
You shine
Bring my better self to flower

And you call me to shine too.

---

I saw U2 perform last night at the FleetCenter.  An amazing performance, and one which inspired this.  The poem is in first draft, so I could use all the help I can get. 

Silver Bird

n.d.

Silver bird
Floating on empty air
Balancing precariously on cloud banks and jet exhaust
Flying 200-something to their “final destination”
(Wherever it may be)
Are you alive?

Do you hear my conversation in your hollowed inside?
Do you sense my nervous exhilaration at your unnatural flight?
Or my overbearing tension as you touch your wingéd body to the insubstantial ground?

Some despise your fragile beauty,
Some abhor your static flights
I revel in your journeys
I adore the dizzying heights

Do you hear my silent prayer
(Silent to a bird of steel and plastic)?
Is there a spark that burns inside you
That will someday soon release you
From your all-too-man-made shell?

So that soon you will be flying with the other living birds
In the air that you call home.

---

This was written many years ago while commuting from Panama, Canal Zone, to Miami, Florida. Echoes relate to the 9/11 tragedy, but I have always marveled at the basic fragility of airflight…

Sorry for the time away.  I’ll try to post more (life in the FAO has been VERY busy).