It

was

.

t

h

e

. 

tumble

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

fall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

g

r

a

y

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

dawn

.

o

f

.

awakening . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

awakening

.

t

o

. 

this,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

a

d

.

done

.

t

o

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

to

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

o

–

–

–

might

.

h

a

v

e

.

lived,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

laughed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

loved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

.

w

a

s

.

no

one,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

nothing

there . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

t

–

–

–

even

.

a

.

shred

.

t

o

.

share . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

.

h

a

d

.

gone

.

f

a

r

.

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

reaches

.

o

f

.

despair . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

beaches

.

o

f

.

the

thousand

.

y

a

r

d

.

stare . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

valleys

where

.

n

o

.

one

dared . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

– 

no

.

o

n

e

.

cared.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2018 where the contemplator looks back with regret on a life where he/she created distance and largely lived in isolation – and wakes up to a loneliness and despair which is far beyond repair. He/she lives the remaining days of life haunted by the painful strings of memories of everything he/she had done to arrive in that place and state. I played the wonderful, haunting gem of a song “Tuesday Afternoon” by The Moody Blues in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

.

time

.

o

f

.

types,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

divides,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

ways

.

t

o

.

decide:

–

–

–

.

.

.

This

one

.

t

o

o

.

tall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

this

one

.

t

o

o

.

small . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

This

one

.

t

o

o

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

this

one

.

j

u

s

t

.

plain

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Yes,

.

t

h

e

r

e

.

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

.

time

.

o

f

.

types,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

divides,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

ways

.

t

o

.

decide

which

.

a

l

l

.

went

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ which

.

a

l

l

.

went

.

a

w

a

y

.

when

.

y

o

u

.

arrived

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

though

.

I

.

could

clearly

.

s

e

e

.

you

were:

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

tall . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

small . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

too

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

just

.

p

l

a

i

n

.

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

even

in

.

t

h

a

t

.

crowded

room,

.

.

t

h

e

r

e

.

.

was

.

n

o

.

one

.

b

u

t

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

w

a

s

.

no

one

.

b

u

t

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

I

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

while,

–

–

building

.

t

h

e

.

bonfire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ building

.

t

h

e

.

bonfire,

–

–

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

higher

.

a

n

d

.

higher . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

.

racing,

.

raging

.

forest

fire . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

breaking

out

.

i

n

.

the

wide

.

open

wild . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

consuming

.

a

l

l

.

that

used

.

t

o

.

be

true . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ consuming

.

a

l

l

.

that

used

.

t

o

.

be

too . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

there

.

i

s

.

only

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

.

i

s

.

only

you

.

a

n

d

.

I,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

moon

.

o

f

.

June . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

moon

.

o

f

.

June

.

i

n

.

full

bloom.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2018 where a typically picky and selective romancer finds there can be lust, love, and romance with someone outside of one’s perceived or self-prescribed preferences.

I

cried

today

.

w

h

e

n

.

I

.

saw

.

y

o

u

r

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

no

matter

.

h

o

w

.

much

.

I

.

say,

.

.

o

r

.

.

how

many

ways

.

I

.

hate

.

a

n

d

.

berate

myself,

.

.

t

h

e

.

.

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

haunting

remains . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

never

.

g

o

e

s

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

–

–

the

pain,

–

–

the

guilt,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

simply

.

g

o

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ go

away,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

erase

.

t

h

e

.

name . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Sometimes

I

wait

.

a

n

d

.

hope

.

f

o

r

.

warmer,

–

–

brighter

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

wait

.

a

n

d

.

hope

.

f

o

r

.

warmer,

–

–

brighter

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

it

.

i

s

.

just

.

a

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ just

. 

a

.

short

.

a

n

d

.

gray,

–

–

somber

delay,

–

–

until

.

I

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

I

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

go

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

o

n

l

y

.

escape

.

i

s

.

to

fade

.

t

h

e

.

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

go

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

r

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

i

l

l

.

see

.

t

h

a

t

.

bitter,

–

–

unforgiving

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

it

ends

.

t

h

i

s

.

way.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but powerful personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in November of 2018 where the affected party is haunted by and cannot escape the guilt and shame experienced in the past. This is one of the few poems I have written that was inspired by a movie. This one was inspired by the moving, powerful movie: “In Bruges.”

I

remember

.

t

h

e

.

time,

.

.

w

h

e

n

.

.

all

.

w

e

.

had . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

all

.

w

e

.

desired . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

all

.

w

e

.

needed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

a

s

–

–

–

you

.

a

n

d

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

.

w

h

e

n

.

every

roll

.

o

f

.

the

dice

–

–

seemed

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

.

w

h

e

n

.

every

night

–

–
would

arrive

.

w

i

t

h

.

a

.

higher,

–

–
brighter

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

as

.

t

h

e

.

miles

.

o

f

.

months

.

a

n

d

.

years

–

–

rolled

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

youth

. 

a

n

d

.

magic

–

–

began

.

t

o

.

dim

.

a

n

d

.

die . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

awoke

.

t

o

.

realize,

–

–

there

.

i

s

.

only

you

.

a

n

d

.

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

i

s

.

only

.

t

h

e

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

I

.

who

.

h

a

d

.

such

.

a

.

beautiful

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ who

.

h

a

d

.

such

.

a

.

beautiful

time,

.

.

i

n

.

.

the

dimming,

–

–

dying

. 

d

a

y

s

.

gone

by.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem I wrote back in November of 2018 where the contemplator looks back on a dimming, dying romance that was once so passionate and vibrant in the days of youth – and comes to realize that the person he or she is with is no longer enough. This is one of the few poems I have written over the years that was inspired by a movie. This one was inspired by the wonderful movie: “Blue Valentine.”

There

.

i

s

.

magic

.

a

n

d

.

magnificence

.

a

l

l

.

around

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

f

–

–

–

that’s

.

t

h

e

.

belief

.

y

o

u

.

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ magic

.

a

n

d

.

magnificence

–

–

up

.

a

n

d

.

down

.

a

n

d

.

all

around,

.

f

o

r

.

you,

.

a

n

d

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everyone

.

w

h

o

.

refuses

to

.

b

e

.

consumed

.

b

y

.

the

limitless,

–

–

worldly,

–

–

wicked

brews . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

deep,

.

a

n

d

.

dark,

.

a

n

d

.

brooding

blues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ the

deep,

.

a

n

d

.

dark,

.

a

n

d

.

brooding

blues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

if

.

i

t

.

is

love,

.

a

n

d

.

life,

.

a

n

d

.

joy

.

y

o

u

.

choose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

n

–

–

–

smile

when

.

y

o

u

.

see

it . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

dance

when

.

y

o

u

.

feel

it . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

shine

when

.

y
o
u

.

breathe

it . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

your

own

–

–

unique

warmth,

–

–

color,

–

–

light,

.

a

n

d

,

brilliance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

c

a

n

–

–

–

ignite

.

a

.

wondrous,

–

–

shimmering

expanse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

a

r

–

–

–

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

elegance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

original

magic

.

a

n

d

.

magnificence.

Reflection:  

This was a hope/inspiration themed poem I wrote back in October of 2018 to inspire hope and optimism by suggesting our perceptions largely create the way we feel inside and the life experiences we have.

Our

first

kiss

.

w

a

s

.

much

better

.

t

h

a

n

.

this . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

beamed,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

burned,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

blossomed

.

w

i

t

h

.

bliss . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

although

tonight

.

y

o

u

.

tried,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

tried

.

t

o

.

make

it

.

t

h

e

.

very

best

.

o

f

.

its

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

our

first

.

k

i

s

s

.

happened

.

l

o

n

g

.

before

tonight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

before

mile,

–

–

before

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

time,

–

–

before

time,

–

–

before

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

miles

.

a

n

d

.

time

.

b

e

f

o

r

e

.

tonight

arrived . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

miles

.

o

f

.

time

.

o

f

.

midnight

lines,

–

–

filled

.

w

i

t

h

.

you-s,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

me-s,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

we-s . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

wined

.

a

n

d

.

dined,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

dined

.

a

n

d

.

wined . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

isles

.

o

f

.

romantic

rhyme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

isles

.

o

f

.

romantic

rhyme,

.

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

.

lie

inside

.

m

y

.

wildly

wandering,

–

–

wanting

mind.

Reflection: This was a forgotten romantic-themed poem I wrote back in November of 2018 where the romancer finally experiences what he or she has been anticipating over a period of several months – but the actual experience paled in comparison to what had been imagined many times before leading up to that event. So, the anticipation was much more passionate, moving, and thrilling than the actual experience. Frequently that happens in life. This poem was written about a someone I had daydreamed about romantically many times but found the actual experience to be nothing close to that.

Oh,

.

b

u

t

.

your

life

.

i

s

.

so

boring,

–

–
said

.

t

h

e

.

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

your

life

.

i

s

.

so

boring,

–

–
said

he . . .
–
–

–

.

.

.
said

she . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

boring

.

i

s

.

simple . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

boring

.

i

s

.

sweet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

boring
.

i

s

.

serene . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

freeing

.

t

o

.

me.

Reflection:  This was a simple, reflective-themed poem that came to me when I was at Daytona Beach relaxing by the sea. It was so simple and basic that I was surprised so many people liked it.

You’re

–

s

o

–

lovely

–

–

when

–

y

o

u

– 

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

lovely

–

–

when

–

y

o

u

–

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

moment

–

w

e

–

see

–

y

o

u

r

–

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

cosmic

colors

–

–

chase

away

–

t

h

e

–

hard

–

a

n

d

– 

heavy

greys . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

suddenly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

suddenly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

tomorrow’s

troubles

fade,

–

a

s

–

do

–

t

h

e

–

hauntings

–

o

f

–

yesterdays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

for

a

moment

–

w

e

–

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

–

I,

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

they,

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

a

moment

–

w

e

–

dance,

–

a

n

d

–

chase,

–

a

n

d

–

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

beneath

–

t

h

e

–

warming

rays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

get

–

–

swept
away

–

b

y

–

the

wave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

for

–

t

h

e

–

moment

–

w

e

–

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

you’re

lovely . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ so

lovely

–

–

when

–

y

o

u

–

smile.

Reflection:

This is a poem I wrote in reflection of a Marine Corps Drill Instructor I met back in 2018 who seemed to frown a lot – but looked so beautiful when he smiled. So, I wanted to encourage him to smile a little more.

They may try

to hurt me

with

their words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

. 

b

u

t 

–

–

–

my voices 

torture more

than

anything said

or done before . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

i

s

.

the 

saddest 

note,

.

.

o

f

.

.

the

saddest 

verse,

.

.

o

f

.

.

the 

saddest 

song,

–

–

ever

heard . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

filling

.

m

y

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

filling

.

m

y

.

void . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

filling

.

m

y

.

distance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

.

m

o

s

t

.

heavy,

–

–

haunting,

–

–

resounding

–

–

sound

.

.

o

f

.

.

all . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

along

.

w

i

t

h

.

everything

.

I

.

might

. 

h

a

v

e

.

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ along

.

w

i

t

h

.

everything

.

I

.

might

. 

h

a

v

e

.

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

i

s

.

the

dance

.

o

f

.

the

dying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

dying

.

o

f

.

dreams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

dying

.

o

f

.

hope . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

dying

.

o

f

.

each,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

all,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

every . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

fires

.

o

f

.

foreplay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

courting

.

o

f

.

cocaine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

taunting

.

o

f

.

Tanqueray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

touch,

.

.

a

n

d

.

. 

the

tease,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

the

taste

.

o

f

. 

ANYTHING

.

w

h

i

c

h

. 

might

–

–

take

.

i

t

.

.

all

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

makes

.

y

o

u

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

fires

.

o

f

.

foreplay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

i

t

.

!BURNS!

!!BURNS!!

!!!BURNS!!!

–

–

everything

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

y

o

u

.

finally

awake

.

a

n

d

.

proclaim:

“I am going 

to make it 

!MY WAY!”

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

“I will like

and accept

myself 

!ANYWAY!”

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

.

i

t

.

.

!BURNS!

!!BURNS!!

!!!BURNS!!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

y

o

u

.

awake

.

a

n

d

.

proclaim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

y

o

u

.

awake

.

a

n

d

.

proclaim . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

– 

simply

lie

.

i

n

.

wait,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

then

.

j

u

s

t

.

die

.

t

h

a

t

.

way.

Reflection: This was a forgotten personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in May of 2018 where the affected party regularly attacks himself/herself with his/her own internal negative voices. These internal negative voices pale in comparison to anything external going on in his/her life. The unforgiving, self-destructive habit not only creates a life of misery but also leads him/her to pursue external remedies – external remedies which conspire to make things worse. And we get the feeling that the internal – external negative cycle will continue until the affected party either finds a way to break out of the negative cycle or pays the ultimate price. This is one of the few poems I have written that was inspired by a play. I had gone to the Orlando Fringe Festival back in 2018, and saw the play called “Awake,” and the poem largely wrote itself from that.

I

.

poked

.

m

y

.

pokey

.

in

.

d

a

.

ho,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

would

.

n

o

t

.

let

.

i

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

would

.

n

o

t

.

let

.

i

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

i

l

l

–

–

–

I

poked

.

i

t

.

slow

.

r

i

g

h

t

.

thru

.

d

a

.

choke . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

poked

.

i

t

.

slow

.

r

i

g

h

t

.

thru

.

d

a

.

choke . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

once

I

broke

.

d

a

.

hold,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

“oh!”

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

stop

.

d

a

.

flow.

Reflection: This was a fun and simple reflective/nostalgic-themed poem I wrote back in April of 2018. I came up with this while sitting on the Boardwalk in Daytona Beach. It doesn’t take much imagination to figure out what this poem is really about. Perhaps this could have been the lyrics to a simple song in the “Super Mario Bros.” movie, game, or something.