I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

t

h

a

t

.

remain

.

i

n

.

that

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

warm

embrace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

subtle

trace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

memory

fades

.

a

n

d

.

faraways . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

somedays

.

a

n

d

.

yesterdays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

played,

–

–

–

.

.

.

exchanged,

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

erased . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

f

e

l

l

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

wave

of

.

t

h

e

.

echoes

.

again

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

almost

.

g

o

t

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

almost

.

g

o

t

.

away

.

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

those

echoes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

they

blame,

.

a

n

d

.

shame,

.

a

n

d

.

still

remain.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in June of 2020 where the affected party occasionally revisits a past which haunts – leaving feelings of guilt, shame, and sorrow. I played the wonderful song “Uncertain” by Robert Deeble 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.

It

.

f

e

l

l

.

as

.

a

.

whisper . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

.

whisper

.

l

e

f

t

.

unheard . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

.

do

.

n

o

t

.

know

–

–

which

.

w

a

s

.

worse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

blister . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

the

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

.

yearned

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

yearned . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

yearned . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

.

yearned . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now,

.

i

t

.

seems

–

–

such

.

a

.

curse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

seems

–

–

such

.

a

.

curse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

now,

.

I

.

know

.

y

o

u

.

were

.

t

h

e

.

first . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now

.

.

I

.

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

.

y

o

u

.

were

.

t

h

e

.

first . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

.

could

.

n

o

t

.

form

.

t

h

e

.

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

.

I

.

could

.

n

o

t

.

form

.

t

h

e

.

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

I

.

h

a

d

.

not

learned . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

could

.

n

o

t

.

discern

.

t

h

e

.

true

magic,

–

–

measure,

–

–

meaning,

.

a

n

d

.

worth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

–

–

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

–

–

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

t

h

e

.

pages

–

–

passed

.

a

n

d

.

purged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

years

–

–

just

burned

.

a

n

d

.

blurred . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

years

–

–

just

burned

.

a

n

d

.

blurred . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

along

.

w

i

t

h

.

that

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ along

.

w

i

t

h

.

that

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

that

whisper

.

l

e

f

t

.

unheard.

Reflection: This was a popular romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in April of 2020 as a reflection on missed romantic opportunities. I had so many of those earlier in my life and they would taunt and haunt me. I would always beat myself up about them – telling myself that I should have said something, or that I should have done something but didn’t. It took a while for me to overcome my shyness in that respect.

I played the song “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc repeatedly at low volume 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

moment,

–

–

when

.

t

h

e

.

music

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

danced

.

w

i

t

h

.

two

.

i

n

.

tune . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

the

.

m

a

d

.

martini

moon

.

c

a

m

e

.

into

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

rush

.

of

.

t

h

e

.

raving

roar

.

o

f

.

that

flickering,

–

–

spinning

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

anything

.

t

o

o

.

good

.

t

o

.

be

true,

–

–

happened

.

t

o

o

.

soon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

almost

knew

–

–

just

what

.

t

o

.

do . . .

.

.

.

–

–

–

 ~ it

almost

knew,

–

–

just

what

.

t

o

.

do . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

the

moment

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

t

h

e

.

moment

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

then

.

i

t

.

was

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

summer

song . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

dreaming

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ gone

with

.

t

h

e

.

awkward

rights

.

a

n

d

.

wrongs . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

night

long . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

on . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

moment . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

–

–

–

moved

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

magic

.

o

f

.

the

mood . . .

.

.

.

–

–

–

a

n

d

–

–

–

almost

knew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

i

t

.

almost

knew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

what

.

t

o

.

do.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem I wrote back in April of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on the short-lived magic of young but awkward romances experienced in the days of youth – and ponders whether anything as wondrous might ever be experienced again. I played the excellent song “Strange Magic” by E.L.O. 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.

All

across

.

t

h

e

.

land

.

o

f

.

the

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

land

.

o

f

.

the

self-serving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

there

.

w

a

s

.

a

certainty . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there

.

w

a

s

.

a

certainty . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

–

–

–

there

–

–

would

be

.

n

o

.

need

.

f

o

r

.

worry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no

need

.

f

o

r

.

worry

.

i

n

.

the

land

.

o

f

.

the

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

land

.

o

f

.

the

self-serving . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

would

.

b

e

.

gone

.

b

y

.

spring . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

i

t

.

would

.

b

e

.

gone

.

b

y

.

spring . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

such

words

.

f

e

l

l

.

so

sweetly,

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

armies

discreetly

–

–

never

seen . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

marching

.

t

h

e

.

disease

.

f

r

o

m

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

seas . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

city,

.

b

y

.

city,

.

b

y

.

city . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

street,

.

b

y

.

street,

.

b

y

.

street . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

now . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

with

.

s

o

.

many

suffering,

.

a

n

d

.

crying,

.

a

n

d

.

dying . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

what

does

.

i

t

.

mean?

–

–

–

.

.

.

what

does

.

i

t

.

really

mean?

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every

member

.

o

f

.

those

–

–

select

societies

.

o

f

.

bickering

teams

.

a

n

d

.

self-serving

deceit . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

.

complacency . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

conceit . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

refusing

.

t

o

.

believe,

.

a

n

d

.

taking

.

t

o

.

the

streets . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

screaming:

“It’s my economy!”

“So set me free!”

–

–

–

.

.

.

“It’s my economy!”

“So give me liberty!”

–

–

–

.

.

.

because

.

i

f

.

you

don’t . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

i

f

.

you

don’t . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

will

still

.

d

o

.

as

I

please!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

will

still

.

d

o

.

as

I

please!

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

having

.

m

y

.

parties!

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

engaging

.

i

n

.

my

social

activities!

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

will

still

.

b

e

.

freely

drinking

.

a

n

d

.

dancing

.

i

n

.

the

streets!

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there’s

nothing . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

there’s

nothing

–

–

which

.

c

a

n

.

stop

me!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

nothing

–

–

which

.

c

a

n

.

stop

me!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

even

.

y

o

u

r

.

decrees!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ not

even

.

y

o

u

r

.

Covid-19!

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

the

cold

.

a

n

d

.

the

cruel,

–

–

defiant

–

–

absurdities

–

–

refused

.

t

o

.

take

heed,

–

–

even

though

minds

–

–

could

clearly

think . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

though

eyes

–

–

could

plainly

see

.

t

h

a

t

.

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

liberty

–

–

could

plant

.

t

h

a

t

.

seed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ could

plant

.

t

h

a

t

.

deadly

seed

.

o

f

.

doom,

.

a

n

d

.

disease,

.

a

n

d

.

dread,

.

a

n

d

.

defeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

week,

–

–

after

week,

–

–

after

week,

–

–

after

week . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

beat,

–

–

after

beat,

–

–

after

beat,

–

–

after

beat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19 . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

So,

what

will

.

t

h

e

.

final

reading

be

.

o

n

.

each

.

o

f

.

these

obscenities?

–

–

–

.

.

.

What

will

.

t

h

e

.

final

reading

.

b

e

.

when

.

t

h

e

y

.

become

.

o

u

r

.

history?

–

–

–

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

–

–

–

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

–

–

–

.

.

.

What

will

.

b

e

.

the

final

read?

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

–

–

one

.

o

f

.

cruelty?

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

–

–

one

.

o

f

.

murder?

–

–

–

.

.

.

Will

.

i

t

.

be

–

–

one

.

o

f

.

atrocity,

.

d

o

.

you

think?

–

–

–

.

.

.

defeat,

–

–

after

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

–

–

crushing

defeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ this

Covid-19.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in April of 2020 when witnessing the beginnings of the Covid-19 pandemic unfold. I played the song “We Work the Black Seam” by Sting repeatedly at low volume 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.

Nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

w

a

y

.

I

feel

.

w

i

t

h

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

that

bitter,

.

brooding

brew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

bitter,

.

brooding

brew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

burning,

.

burning

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

burning,

.

burning

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

.

.

.

a

place

.

w

h

e

r

e

,

nothing

moves . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

.

a

.

place

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

nothing

soothes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it’s

nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

.

w

a

y

.

I

feel

.

w

i

t

h

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Nothing

.

a

n

d

.

no

one . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

that

bitter,

.

brooding

brew . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

bitter,

.

brooding

brew,

–

–

consuming

through,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

through,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

through . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

burning,

.

burning

blue.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the affected party reflects on a life consumed by temptations and addictions – a life full of emptiness and nothingness. The opening verse came to me and the rest of the poem pretty much wrote itself from that. I played the songs “Tangerine” by Led Zeppelin and “Yesterday was Hard on All of Us” by Fink repeatedly at low volume in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to these songs at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

When

.

I

.

dreamed

of

.

t

h

e

.

someday

place,

–

–

there

.

w

a

s

.

nothing

.

i

n

.

my

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

When

.

I

.

dreamed

of

.

t

h

e

.

someday

place,

–

–

there

were

.

n

o

.

barricades . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

always

.

became

.

a

.

weightless

gain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

weightless

gain

.

o

f

.

glorious

grace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

a

great

escape

.

f

o

r

.

better

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

great

escape

.

f

o

r

.

better

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

sometime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

someway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

somewhere . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

I

.

could

.

s

e

e

.

everything

.

s

o

.

clearly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

perceive

everything

.

s

o

.

dearly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

could

.

perceive

everything

.

s

o

.

dearly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

I

.

would

–

–

dream,

–

–

dream,

–

–

dream,

–

–

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

those

.

dancing

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

those

.

dancing

days

.

o

f

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

I

.

would

dream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

I

.

would

dream

.

s

o

.

freely . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

someday

place.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on a past filled with magic, dreams, and boundless adventure where he or she seemingly lived a wondrous life without boundaries – and ponders whether something similar might ever be experienced again. I played the haunting gem of a song “Chariot” by Beach House 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.

The

family

picnic

.

b

y

.

the

waterway

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

when

.

I

.

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

drift

away

.

a

n

d

.

affectionately

gaze

.

a

t

.

that

pristine

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

–

–

where

.

t

h

e

.

beetles

.

a

n

d

.

bumblebees

played . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

humming

.

a

n

d

.

strumming

away

.

a

l

l

.

hours

.

o

f

.

the

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

–

–

where

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

you

could

.

n

o

t

.

only

bathe

.

i

n

.

the

peace

.

o

r

.

just

.

simply

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

!breathe!

–

–

!!breathe!!

–

–

!!!breathe!!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

!feel!

–

–

!!feel!!

–

–

!!!feel!!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

!green!

–

–

!!green!!

–

–

!!!green!!!

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

the

grasslands

.

beneath

.

y

o

u

r

.

feet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

for

miles,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

miles,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

miles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

–

–

–

daylight

smiled . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

daylight

smiled

.

s

o

.

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

so

wide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

across

.

t

h

e

.

springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

.

e

v

e

n

.

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ where

.

e

v

e

n

.

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

a

s

–

–

–

nice,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

fun,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

fine,

–

–

all

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

beneath

.

t

h

e

.

dancing

rays

.

o

f

.

that

joy-hopping,

.

poetic

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

that

.

w

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

that

.

w

a

s

.

yesterday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

today,

.

t

h

e

.

colors

.

o

f

.

the

day,

–

–

carry

.

s

u

c

h

.

weight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

so

much

.

a

n

d

.

so

many,

.

heavy

shades

.

o

f

.

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

day,

.

.

t

o

.

.

day,

.

.

t

o

.

.

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

w

–

–

–

creates

such

.

a

.

bitter

taste . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

compared

.

t

o

.

that

pristine,

.

poetic

place

.

b

y

.

the

waterway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

everyone

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

h

a

s

.

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

even

though

.

I

.

m

a

y

.

never

see . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

never

feel . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

never

breathe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

place

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

the

family

picnic

.

b

y

.

the

waterway

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

when

.

I

.

close

.

m

y

.

eyes,

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

drift

away,

.

a

n

d

.

affectionately

gaze

.

a

t

.

that

pristine

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

pristine

place,

.

.

a

million

.

miles

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

million

.

miles

behind,

.

b

a

c

k

.

when

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ back

when

.

time

.

w

a

s

.

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

daylight

smiled

.

a

l

l

.

the

while.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote back in Feb of 2020 where the contemplator looks back on a special, warming, youthful day in the past with those loved, cherished, and appreciated – and wonders whether he or she will ever experience anything like it again. I played a wonderful song I had heard for the very first time and immediately loved: “Kids” by Current Joy. I played this song in the background at low volume 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. It wasn’t the lyrics of the song but the sound which inspired me to write the poem. The sound painted a fresh, soothing scene of a sweet, green, serene spring to me. So, I wrote the poem in reflection of that.

The

currents

flow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

move

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

undertow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

move

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

undertow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

wonder

where

.

m

y

.

life

.

might

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

although

.

I

.

know

.

I

.

a

m

.

lost

.

a

n

d

.

alone,

.

.

m

y

.

.

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

.

.

.

a

place

–

–

without

a

name . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

n

–

–

–

a

train

–

–

without

rails . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

n

–

–

–

a

ship

–

–

without

sails . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

n

–

–

–

a

plane . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ on

a

plane

.

i

t

.

strays,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

races,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

strays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

without

.

a

.

way

.

t

o

.

navigate . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

although

.

I

.

know,

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

lost

.

a

n

d

.

alone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

my

future,

.

.

i

t

.

.

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

train,

–

–

after

train,

–

–

after

train . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

wave,

–

–

after

wave,

–

–

after

wave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

plane,

–

–

after

plane,

–

–

after

plane . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day,

–

–

after

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

whether

wind,

.

.

o

r

.

.

flame,

.

.

o

r

.

.

shine,

.

.

o

r

.

.

rain,

.

.

o

r

.

.

snow,

.

.

o

r

.

.

hail,

.

.

o

r

.

.

earthquake,

.

.

o

r

.

.

hurricane . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ my

future,

.

.

i

t

.

.

travels,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

will

.

n

o

t

.

wait . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

My

future

travels . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

a

place

–

–

without

a

name.

Reflection: This was a personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in January of 2020 where the affected party exerts little control over his or her life and just goes with the flow to nowhere. Because even if you do nothing – the future will arrive. And it is likely not the future you would want for yourself. I played the wonderful song “Harbour” by Moby 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.

I

lied

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

usual

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

usual

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

usual

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

told

.

y

o

u

.

I

.

would

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

that

I

.

.

would

find

.

a

way

.

t

o

.

not

be

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ I

would

–

–

find

a

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ I

would

–

–

find

a

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

the

vibrant

–

–

color

parades

–

–

which

remain

.

s

o

.

full

.

o

f

.

hope

–

–

throughout

.

t

h

e

.

days,

–

–

always

seem

.

t

o

.

bathe

.

i

n

.

the

shade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

~ they

always

–

–

seem

.

t

o

.

bathe

.

i

n

.

the
shade

.

o

f

.

watercolor

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

by

.

t

h

e

.

time

.

.

I

awake

.

t

o

.

daybreak . . .

–

–

–

.

.

~ yes,

by

.

t

h

e

.

time

I

awake . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

find

–

–

myself

unchanged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

rearranged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

in

the

.

s

a

m

e

.

place

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

swimming

.

i

n

.

the

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

swimming

.

i

n

.

the

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

though

.

m

y

.

life

–

–

might

seem

.

t

o

.

only

.

b

e

.

drifting . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

well,

.

a

t

.

least

I’m

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

swimming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ at

least

–

–

I’m

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

swimming . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

lied

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

lied

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

usual

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

usual

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

usual

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

lied

today.

Reflection: This was a popular personal struggle-themed poem I wrote back in December of 2019. The opening line: “I lied today… in the usual place… in the usual way…” came to me in the beginning moments and the poem wrote itself from that opening line. I’m sure many who have dealt with significant personal struggles – their own or those of people close to them – will be able to relate to this poem.

I played the song “Why” by Annie Lennox in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for this poem. The song really seemed to fit. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

Let’s

just

–

–

sit

here,

–

–

you

–

a

n

d

–

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

simply

smile

–

a

t

–

the

sky . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ smile

.

a

t

.

the

sky . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

–

t
h

e

–

days

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

though

–

–

we

–

h

a

v

e

–

lived

a

life

–

t

h

a

t

–

was

–

n

o

t

–

always

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

though

–

–

we

–

h

a

v

e

–

set

aside

–

–

some

dreams

–

a

n

d

–

desires

–

–

which

would

–

n

e

v

e

r

–

take

flight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

though

–

–

we

–

h

a

v

e

–

watched

–

t

h

e

–

springtimes

–

o

f

–

vibrant

colors

–

–

dim

–

a

n

d

–

die

–

w

i

t

h

–

our

youth

–

–

over

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

there

–

w

a

s

–

still

–

–

you

–

a

n

d

–

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ there

.

w

a

s

.

still

–

–

you

–

a

n

d

–

I . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

let’s
just

–

–

sit

here

–

f

o

r

–

a

while

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

simply
smile

–

a

t

–
the

sky . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ smile

.

a

t

.

the

sky . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

all

–

t

h

e

–

days

gone

by.

Reflection:

This is a poem that came to me while sitting on my balcony enjoying the sunshine sky and imagining I was sitting there with someone who was on my mind at the time – and just enjoying the moment. The opening line “Let’s just sit here, you and I, and simply smile at the sky” came to me in that moment and the poem pretty much wrote itself from that opening line. It’s sort of the flip side of the previous poem I had written that year (December 2019) in reflection of Josh Geyer’s passing [“Starshine (All the While)”] – and a flip from the gloomy perspective usually taken when thinking about days gone by. It essentially says we’ve had all this time in our lives, and how wonderful is that (in contrast to those who leave this earth at a youthful age).