Halloween

–

–

comes

nearly

–

–

every

day

.

o

f

.

every

week . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ at

least

–

–

that’s

.

t

h

e

.

way

.

i

t

.

seems . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

that’s

.

t

h

e

.

way

.

i

t

.

seems

.

t

o

.

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

scream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

scream

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

deep,

–

–

where

guilty

–

–

shadows

scheme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

scream

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

deep,

–

–

where

.

t

h

e

.

haunting

–

–

never

sleeps . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

haunting

–

–

never

sleeps . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

whips

.

a

n

d

.

beats

–

–

until

.

I

.

bleed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

 ~ it

pounds

.

a

n

d

.

bruises

–

–

until

.

I

.

cannot

breathe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ until

.

I

.

cannot

breathe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

in

between

.

t

h

e

.

haunting

dreams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

in

between

.

t

h

e

.

whips

.

a

n

d

.

beats . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

drown

.

i

n

.

the

defeat

.

o

f

.

what

might

–

–

have

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

drown

.

i

n

.

the

defeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

drown

.

i

n

.

the

defeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

drown

.

i

n

.

the

defeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

what

might

–

–

have

been . . .

–

–

–

.

.

h

a

d

–

–

–

it

been

–

–

another

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ had

.

i

t

.

been

–

–

another

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ had

.

i

t

.

been

–

–

another

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

would

.

d

o

.

anything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

would

.

d

o

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

t

o

.

be

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

I

would

.

d

o

.

anything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

would

.

d

o

.

everything . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

just

.

t

o

.

be

free . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

married

.

t

o

.

the

disease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

married

.

t

o

.

the

disease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

married

.

t

o

.

the

disease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

a

m

.

married

.

t

o

.

the

disease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

called

PTSD . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

call

.

i

t

.

PTSD . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

call

.

i

t

.

PTSD . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

for

me

–

–

it’s

Halloween . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

hour

.

b

y

.

hour . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

week

.

b

y

.

week . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

Halloween . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

Halloween . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It’s

Halloween

.

o

n

.

repeat . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

scream.

Reflection: This is a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in October of 2022 in which the sufferer is stuck in a horrifying cycle which he or she cannot seem to escape. The line: “I scream into the deep,” then the opening lines came to me, and I wrote the poem starting from those. Another separate section came to me starting with “it whips and beats…” as did another separate section starting with “I drown in the defeat of what might have been” (this part came to me after hearing “Country Feedback” by REM – especially the part: “It’s crazy what you could have had.”). Somehow all of this blended together well. I started the poem on 15 October and finished it the very next day off and on without too much effort just in time for Halloween.

°☆

☆°

°☆

.

.

.

.

.

.

You

can

.

b

e

.

blind

.

o

r

.

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

right

.

o

r

.

blind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

neither

at

.

t

h

e

.

same

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

r

–

–

–

neither

on

.

t

h

e

.

same

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

r

–

–

–

neither

in

.

t

h

e

.

same

rhyme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

can

.

b

e

.

blind

.

o

r

.

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

right

.

o

r

.

blind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

°☆

☆°

°☆

.

.

.

.

.

.

The

midnight 

.

o

f

.

my

mind

.

i

s

.

turpentine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ turpentine

to

.

t

h

e

.

rainbow

skies

–

–

that

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

rainbow

skies

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

rainbow

skies

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

rainbow

skies

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

l

l

–

–

–

hours

.

o

f

.

the

day

.

a

n

d

.

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

miles

.

o

f

.

aisles,

.

.

o

f

.

.

springtime

smiles

–

–

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

the

painted

paradise

–

–

that

only

resides

.

i

n

.

the

rainbow

skies

.

o

f

.

a

mind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

painted

paradise

–

–

which

only

resides

.

i

n

.

the

rainbow

skies

.

o

f

.

a

mind

–

–

bathed

.

i

n

.

turpentine.

Reflection: This is a personal struggle-themed poem where the sufferer frequently does not realize he or she is suffering from anything because of the firm belief that everyone else is wrong. I wrote the turpentine lines in various forms while walking on Daytona Beach. I was thinking about 60s psychedelic songs by The Doors, The Moody Blues, and Jimi Hendrix and wanted a very creative, interesting line or phrase and the turpentine lines juxtaposed against the rainbow skies came to mind.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time

.

a

n

d

.

a

place,

–

–

where

.

I

.

almost

–

–

felt

.

t

h

a

t

.

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

almost

–

–

felt

.

t

h

a

t

.

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

that

.

time

.

a

n

d

.

in

.

t

h

a

t

.

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

before

.

t

h

e

.

day

.

y

o

u

.

went

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

w

e

n

t

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

racing

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

.

lanes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ racing

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

.

lanes,

.

o

f

.

fire,

.

a

n

d

.

flame,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

everything

.

y

o

u

.

could

.

erase

.

a

n

d

.

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ everything

.

y

o

u

.

could

.

erase

.

a

n

d

.

escape,

–

–

through

.

fire

.

a

n

d

.

flame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

racing

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

.

lanes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

raced

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

lanes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

raced

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

lanes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

raced

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

–

–

runway

lanes,

.

o

f

.

fire

.

a

n

d

.

flame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

.

w

a

s

.

too

.

afraid . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

too

afraid

.

o

f

.

the

change . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

too

afraid

.

o

f

.

the

pace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

too

afraid

.

o

f

.

the

trade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

too

afraid

.

o

f

.

the

change.

Reflection: This is a romantic-themed poem in which one of the parties in a relationship was unable to keep pace or to accept the change – resulting in being left behind. I wrote much of the draft of this poem at the beach. Much of the words just came to me. So, I just tweaked it a little at home. It only took a few minutes to complete.

I

would

–

–

rather

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

try . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

would

–

–

rather

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

would

–

–

rather

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

would

–

–

rather

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

try . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

keep

.

i

t

.

alive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

want

.

s

o

.

much

.

t

o

.

try

.

t

o

.

keep

.

i

t

.

alive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

want

.

s

o

.

much

.

t

o

.

try . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

while

.

t

h

e

.

shimmer

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

shines . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

want

.

s

o

.

much

.

t

o

.

try . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

while

.

t

h

e

.

rhythm

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

rhymes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

eyes

–

–

always

linger,

.

a

n

d

.

stay

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

especially

when

–

–

they

start

.

t

o

.

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Eyes

–

–

always

linger

.

a

n

d

.

stay

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Eyes

–

–

always

linger

.

a

n

d

.

stay

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Eyes

–

–

always

linger

.

a

n

d

.

stay

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

especially

when

–

–

they

start

.

t

o

.

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ especially

when

–

–

they

start

.

t

o

.

cry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

On

some

–

–

other

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

in

some

–

–

other

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

might

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

o

n

.

some

–

–

other

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

in

some

–

–

other

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

might

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

might

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

might

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

might

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

see

.

y

o

u

.

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

n

–

–

–

some

–

–

other

day . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

in

some

–

–

other

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now,

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

reach

.

f

o

r

.

you,

.

a

l

l

.

hours

.

o

f

.

the

days

.

a

n

d

.

nights . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

reach

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

reach

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

reach

.

f

o

r

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

go

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

lost

.

a

n

d

.

lonesome

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

try

.

t

o

.

keep

.

i

t

.

alive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

try

.

t

o

.

keep

.

i

t

.

alive . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

between

.

t

h

e

.

memories

.

t

h

a

t

.

collide,

.

a

n

d

.

align,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

dance

.

side

.

b

y

.

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

collide

.

a

n

d

.

align . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

collide

.

a

n

d

.

align . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

collide

.

a

n

d

.

align . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

dance

.

side

.

b

y

.

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

do

.

n

o

t

.

want

.

t

o

.

drown

.

i

n

.

the

demise

.

o

f

.

all

we

–

–

left

behind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

do

.

n

o

t

.

want

.

t

o

.

drown

.

i

n

.

the

demise

.

b

y

.

seeing

.

y

o

u

.

solely

.

i

n

.

the

shadows

.

o

f

.

my

mind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

h

o

l

d

.

tight

.

t

o

.

the

end

.

o

f

.

the

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

goodbye.

Reflection: This is a melancholy-themed poem in which the affected party is witnessing the final moments of someone who meant a lot to him or her. It might be the final moments of a romantic relationship, of someone suffering from injury or illness, or of a dear friend or family member going down a troubled path or turning away from the affected party for some reason.

I wrote much of this poem over a week or so in reflection of one of my favorite movies: “Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.”  I played the wonderful song “A Million Parachutes” by The Sixpence None the Richer, and this song served as the inspiration for the final phase of poem refinements (I played the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the final stages of the poem). This poem primarily reflects the sad end of the film but was important enough to me to keep trying and trying until it finally captured what I was seeking. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

thought

.

o

f

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

smiled . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

wondered

how

–

–

your

life

–

–

had

gone

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while

–

–

you

were

.

n

o

t

.

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

a

s

.

surprised

.

t

o

.

find

–

–

how

many

–

–

lows

.

a

n

d

.

highs

.

h

a

d

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ how

many

–

–

lows

.

a

n

d

.

highs

.

h

a

d

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

springtime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

back

when

–

–

the

days

.

o

f

.

me

.

a

n

d

.

you

–

–

were

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

.

w

e

r

e

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

knew

–

–

we

could

.

n

o

t

.

lose . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

could

.

n

o

t

.

lose

.

i

n

.

those

restless

–

–

days

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

love

.

w

a

s

.

more

a

mood

–

–

than

a

proof . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

we

could

–

–

move,

.

a

n

d

.

pursue,

.

a

n

d

.

do

–

–

whatever

.

w

e

.

wanted

to . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

could

.

d

o

.

whatever

.

w

e

.

wanted

to . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

restless

–

–

days

.

o

f

.

youth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

everything

.

w

a

s

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

everything

.

w

a

s

.

new,

.

a

n

d

.

still

.

i

n

.

bloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

including

me

.

a

n

d

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

How

much

.

t

i

m

e

.

passed

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

springtime

.

a

t

.

the

starting

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ since

.

w

e

.

shined

–

–

our

smiles

.

o

f

.

springtime

.

a

t

.

the 

starting

line . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

igniting

.

a

n

d

.

exciting

.

t

h

e

.

eyes

.

o

f

.

delight

–

–

which

–

–

came

alive

.

a

n

d

.

would

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles

.

a

t

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

–

–

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

–

–

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

would

–

–

marvel

.

f

o

r

.

miles

.

a

t

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ those

eyes

.

o

f

.

delight,

–

–

alive

.

i

n

.

our

springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

t

h

e

.

words,

.

t

h

e

.

rhythm,

.

a

n

d

.

the

rhyme

–

–

were

.

l

i

k

e

.

wine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

.

w

a

s

.

fine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

everything

.

w

a

s

.

fine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

could

still

.

g

o

.

right . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ everything

 could

–

–

still

.

g

o

.

right

.

i

n

.

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

would

–

–

ride

.

t

h

e

.

skies

.

o

f

.

starshine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

–

–

ride

.

t

h

e

.

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

–

–

ride

.

t

h

e

.

skies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

would

–

–

ride

.

t

h

e

.

skies

.

o

f

.

starshine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

nice,

.

a

n

d

.

bright,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

high,

.

a

n

d

.

wide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

smile,

–

–

after

smile,

–

–

after

smile,

–

–

after

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

.

h

a

d

.

rhyme,

.

a

n

d

.

wine,

.

a

n

d

.

candlelight

.

o

n

.

our

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

.

h

a

d

.

rhyme,

.

a

n

d

.

wine,

.

a

n

d

.

candlelight

.

o

n

.

our

side . . .

–

–

–

.

.

when

.

w

e

.

shined

.

o

u

r

.

springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

.

w

e

.

shined

.

o

u

r

.

springtime

smiles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

thought

.

o

f

.

you

.

a

n

d

.

smiled . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

wondered

how

–

–

your

life

–

–

had

gone

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

e

.

while

–

–

you

were

.

n

o

t

.

mine.

Reflection: This was a popular romantic-themed poem I wrote back in August 2022 which largely reflects looking back on a cherished, one-of-a-kind, past romance – and is something most of us have probably experienced in our lives. Romance seemed so much easier in the days of youth when expectations were much lower, and we were less judgmental and more forgiving towards each other.

The opening lines to this poem came to me while I was at New Smyrna Beach. The remainder of the poem came into being a couple of weeks later by the accidental intersection of one of my favorite movies (“Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.”) and an old song on the radio that I had never heard before on the drive back from Daytona Beach (“Come Saturday Morning” by The Sandpipers which was a tiny but catchy echo from back in 1970 – its peak position on the charts was at #17). And although this song was not in the movie, and not much of a hit, it really hit me and fit perfectly with what I was reflecting on and trying to capture.

The song served as the primary inspiration for the poem which took several iterations to write (while playing the song repeatedly on 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.

°☆

☆°

°☆

.

.

.

.

.

.

I

wanted

.

t

o

.

love

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

would

have

–

–

loved

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

we

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

strayed

–

i

n

t

o

–

the

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

°☆

☆°

°☆

.

.

.

.

.

.

In

.

t

h

e

.

pale,

–

–

gray,

–

–

nostalgic

.

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

saw

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

your

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

came

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

place,

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

once

.

embraced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

came

–

–

across

.

t

h

e

.

place,

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

once

.

embraced,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

.

embraced,

.

a

n

d

.

played,

.

a

n

d

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

.

embraced,

.

a

n

d

.

played,

.

a

n

d

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

.

embraced,

.

a

n

d

.

played,

.

a

n

d

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

then

.

w

e

.

strayed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

strayed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

.

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

everything

.

changed

.

a

n

d

.

was

.

never

.

t

h

e

.

same

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

.

ways

.

w

e

.

would

.

blame,

.

a

n

d

.

complain,

.

a

n

d

.

fail

.

t

o

.

engage . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

.

t

h

e

.

ways

.

w

e

.

would

.

rage,

.

a

n

d

.

shame,

.

a

n

d

.

just

–

–

turn

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we

would

.

j

u

s

t

.

turn

.

away,

.

a

n

d

.

let

.

t

h

e

.

memories

.

decay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

still,

.

I

.

would

.

h

a

v

e

.

loved

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

would

.

h

a

v

e

.

loved

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

In

.

t

h

e

.

pale,

–

–

gray,

–

–

nostalgic

.

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

saw

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

your

.

face . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

came

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

place,

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

once

.

embraced . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

came

.

across

.

t

h

e

.

place,

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

once

.

embraced,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

danced

.

t

h

e

.

days

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

–

–

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

–

–

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

–

–

danced

.

away

.

t

h

e

.

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

strayed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

fade.

Reflection: This is a romantic-themed poem in which the affected party is looking back on a cherished romance from the distant past, wonders if something could have been done to save it and ponders whether he or she will ever experience something like that again. This poem came into being by the accidental intersection of one of my favorite movies (“Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool.”) and an old song on the radio that I had never heard before on the drive back from Daytona Beach (“Come Saturday Morning” by The Sandpipers which was a tiny but catchy echo from back in 1970 – its peak position on the charts was at #17). And although this song was not in the movie, and not much of a hit, it really hit me and fit perfectly with what I was reflecting on and trying to capture. This poem pretty much wrote itself (while playing the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem). The poem was written fairly quickly. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

loved

you

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

across

.

t

h

e

.

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

t

h

e

.

moment

moved

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

music

.

o

f

.

the

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

.

the

music

.

o

f

.

the

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

pursuit

.

o

f

.

a

tune

.

s

o

.

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

consumed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 It

consumed

.

t

h

e

.

mood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 It

consumed

.

t

h

e

.

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

brewing

wish

.

w

i

t

h

.

want . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

rooted

.

i

n

.

gloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ It

brewed

–

–

wish

.

w

i

t

h

.

want . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

rooted

.

i

n

.

gloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

moment

moved . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

moment

moved

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

music

.

o

f

.

the

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

brewing

wish

.

w

i

t

h

.

want . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

rooted

.

i

n

.

gloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ It

brewed

–

–

wish

.

w

i

t

h

.

want . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

rooted

.

i

n

.

gloom . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

I

loved

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

loved

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

loved

you

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

a

tune

–

s

o

–

blue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

consumed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

loved

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

across

.

t

h

e

.

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

.

t

h

e

.

moment

moved.

Reflection: This is a melancholy-themed poem in which the contemplator is reflecting on someone he or she felt something special for but for some reason could not create the mutual, romantic connection desired – or perhaps did not even really try. I wrote this poem in reflection of watching a drummer in a band when I was at New Smyrna Beach – someone for some reason I just instantly loved. I talked with him briefly and even dreamt about him. He was so fun to watch. Such a cool, cool guy.

I played different songs trying to capture the mood of this poem. In the end, I played the wonderful, haunting gem of a song “First Thing in the Morning” by Secret Sun. This poem took several hours and several iterations to write. So, it didn’t come easy like some of the other poems I have written. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

.

wandered

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

came

.

across

.

a

.

name,

–

–

lost

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

.

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

lost

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

.

page,

–

–

hidden

.

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ hidden

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

those

.

yesterdays

.

o

f

.

shame,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

blame,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

same

.

.

o

l

d

.

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ hidden

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

those

.

yesterdays

.

o

f

.

pain,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

gray,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

shadows

.

.

t

h

a

t

.

.

remain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

lost

.

name

.

u

p

o

n

.

the

.

page,

–

–

with

.

a

.

face

.

t

h

a

t

.

said

–

–

everything

.

would

.

change

.

a

n

d

.

work

.

o

u

t

.

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ everything

would

.

change

.

a

n

d

.

work

.

o

u

t

.

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

.

.

.

a

.

n

e

w

.

place,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

in

.

a

.

n

e

w

.

age . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ yes,

everything

.

would

.

change

.

a

n

d

.

work

.

o

u

t

.

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

someday . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

.

.

.

a

.

n

e

w

.

place,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

in

.

a

.

n

e

w

.

age . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

said

.

t

h

e

.

face,

–

–

with

.

a

.

name,

–

–

lost

.

u

p

o

n

.

a

.

page.

Reflection: This is a reflective-themed poem in which the contemplator recalls a forgotten someone who inspired or really meant something to him or her in the distant past when things were not so good. I wrote much of this poem fairly quickly while walking the beach at night in New Smyrna. This poem only took a few minutes of rewrites to finalize. It pretty much wrote itself.

It

.

w

a

s

.

the

springtime

.

o

f

.

our

lives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

summer

.

o

f

.

all

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ when

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

cried . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Eyes,

–

–

met

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

cried . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

springtime

.

o

f

.

our

lives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

.

t

h

e

.

summer

.

o

f

.

all

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

w

a

s

.

the

summer

.

o

f

.

all

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

continued

.

t

o

.

shine

.

t

h

e

.

light,

–

–

all

across

.

t

h

e

.

years

–

–

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

pages

.

o

f

.

prize

.

a

n

d

.

price . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

across

.

t

h

e

.

pages

.

o

f

.

pride

.

a

n

d

.

plight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

continued

.

t

o

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

continued

.

t

o

.

shine

.

t

h

a

t

.

light . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

time,

–

–

after

time,

–

–

after

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

mile,

–

–

after

mile,

–

–

after

mile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

sigh,

–

–

after

sigh,

–

–

after

sigh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Let

.

i

t

.

shine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

it

.

w

a

s

.

the

springtime

.

o

f

.

our

lives . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

summer

.

o

f

.

all

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

the

summer

.

o

f

.

all

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes,

–

–

met

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

cried.

Reflection: This is a romantic-themed poem in which the affected party looks back fondly on a romance from the distant past. He or she is saddened by the realization that nothing as wonderful has been experienced over the many years since then.

I wrote the lines “it was the springtime of our lives and the summer of all time” and the poem pretty much wrote itself from that. I played the wonderful song “First Thing in the Morning” by Secret Sun and the poem pretty much wrote itself (I played the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the final stages of the poem). If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

felt

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray

–

–

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray

.

f

r

o

m

.

that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain

–

–

when

something

–

–

which

.

a

t

.

first

–

–

seemed

.

s

o

.

strange

.

a

n

d

.

full

.

o

f

.

shame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page,

.

i

n

.

later

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

we

engaged

.

a

n

d

.

restrained . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

engaged

.

a

n

d

.

restrained . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

feelings

awake

.

a

n

d

.

ablaze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

haste

.

o

f

.

a

tender

age . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

engaged

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

.

w

e

.

engaged

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

everything

changed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

was

never

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

never

.

t

h

e

.

same

–

–

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

felt

.

t

h

e

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

gray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

r

o

m

–

–

–

that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

day

.

i

n

.

the

rain,

–

–

which

became

.

s

o

.

great

.

o

n

.

the

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

t

–

–

–

haunts

me

–

–

again

today.

Reflection: This was a popular reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2022 about an awkward, romantic encounter in the days of youth. I played the wonderful, haunting song “First Thing in the Morning” by Secret Sun and the poem pretty much wrote itself from that (playing the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem). It was written fairly quickly – like a couple of hours or so. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.