You

did

.

n

o

t

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way,

.

t

h

e

.

days

–

–

would

race

away,

.

a

n

d

.

try

.

t

o

.

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way

–

–

that

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page

–

–

everything 

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Everything

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

once,

–

–

vibrant

colors

–

–

trading

.

f

o

r

.

grays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

buying

.

o

f

.

more

lace

.

a

n

d

.

new

games

.

t

o

.

play . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

prove

we’re

–

–

still

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 We

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 We

played

–

–

those

games . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

o

–

–

–

prove

we’re

–

–

still

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ to

prove

–

–

we’re

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

okay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

even

though

–

–

when

.

w

e

.

embrace

–

–

we’re

far,

–

–

far

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ we’re

far,

–

–

far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

place

–

–

where

we

.

a

r

e

.

today . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

that

place

–

–

where

.

w

e

.

wait,

.

a

n

d

.

age,

–

a

n

d

–

watch

.

i

t

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 We

watch

.

i

t

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 We

watch

–

i

t

–

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

rhythm . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

rhyme . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

carelessly

rolling

.

o

u

t

.

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

rolls

.

o

u

t

.

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

rolls

.

o

u

t

.

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

rolls

.

o

u

t

.

with

.

t

h

e

.

tide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

without

.

s

o

.

much

.

a

s

.

a

–

–

somber

sigh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

–

–

pale

goodbye . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

even

a

–

–

warming

word

.

t

o

.

write . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

did

.

n

o

t

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

knew

.

i

t

.

anyway . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way,

–

–

the

days

–

–

raced

away,

.

a

n

d

.

tried

.

t

o

.

escape . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

knew

.

i

t

.

in

.

t

h

e

.

way

–

–

that

page,

–

–

after

page,

–

–

after

page . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

everything 

remained

.

t

h

e

.

same.

Reflection:  This was a popular romantic-themed poem I wrote back in July of 2022 about a fading romance and the subtle cues along the way. I wrote much of this poem at Daytona Beach (at least a good draft). The opening words came to me and the poem sort of wrote itself from there. At home, I refined it using the song “Picture You” by The Amazing playing 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.

I

.

went

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

that

.

road

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

the

.

shadows

.

roam . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

went

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

that

.

road

.

o

f

.

all

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

places,

–

–

I

.

used

.

t

o

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

places

–

–

I

.

used

.

t

o

.

go,

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

smoke,

.

a

n

d

.

sex,

.

a

n

d

.

blow,

–

–

would

.

fight

.

f

o

r

.

control

.

o

f

.

the

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

would

.

fight

.

f

o

r

.

control

.

o

f

.

the

.

soul . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

smile,

.

a

n

d

.

moan,

.

a

n

d

.

echo . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

smile,

.

a

n

d

.

moan,

.

a

n

d

.

echo . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

smile,

.

a

n

d

.

moan,

.

a

n

d

.

echo . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

They

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

smile,

.

a

n

d

.

moan,

.

a

n

d

.

echo . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

I

.

again

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

I

.

again

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

go

.

back

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

that

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

would

.

g

o

.

back

.

.

d

o

w

n

.

.

that

.

road

.

o

f

.

smoke,

.

a

n

d

.

sex,

.

a

n

d

.

blow,

.

.

t

h

a

t

.

.

smiled,

.

a

n

d

.

moaned,

.

a

n

d

.

echoed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

leading

.

f

a

r

.

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

home . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ leading

.

f

a

r

.

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

home . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

d

o

w

n

–

–

–

that

.

relentless

.

a

n

d

.

ravishing,

–

–

rapturous

.

road,

.

.

w

h

e

r

e

.

the

.

shadows

.

roam.

Reflection: This is a personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in July of 2022 where the affected party cannot seem to break out of a negative cycle of temptation flirtations that repeatedly consume the soul. I was looking back on the age of disco, and the rampant smoke, sex, drugs, drink, and such as the primary influence when writing this poem. I used the song “Rock On” by David Essex to play 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.

Never

plateau . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Always

.

b

e

.

bold,

.

a

n

d

.

grow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Take

.

t

h

a

t

.

road

.

a

n

d

.

!go!

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

.

i

f

.

you

do

.

n

o

t

.

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

.

i

f

.

the

.

s

u

n

.

does

.

n

o

t

.

show . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

.

i

f

.

the

pace

–

–

seems

slow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

you

feel

.

a

l

l

.

alone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Never

plateau . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Never

plateau . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Never

plateau . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Always

.

b

e

.

bold,

.

a

n

d

.

grow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Take

.

t

h

a

t

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Take

.

t

h

a

t

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Take

.

t

h

a

t

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

!go!

–

–

–

.

.

.

!go!

–

–

–

.

.

.

!go!

Reflection:  This was a popular inspirational/hope-themed poem I wrote back in July of 2022. I wrote and posted the phrase: “Don’t plateau… Be bold and go!” and then added the word: “grow.” I then quickly turned that into a poem.

You

might

.

a

t

.

times,

–

–

feel

.

s

o

.

cold

.

a

n

d

.

alone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

all

.

along

.

t

h

a

t

.

rough

.

a

n

d

.

rugged

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ all

along

.

t

h

a

t

.

rough

.

a

n

d

.

rugged

.

road . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

leading

lower,

–

–

than

lower,

–

–

than

low . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

.

only

.

t

h

e

.

shadows

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

I

.

w

a

n

t

.

you

.

t

o

.

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

always

.

b

e

.

there

.

t

o

.

hold

.

t

h

e

.

end

.

o

f

.

the

.

rope . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

will

.

never

.

l

e

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

w

i

l

l

.

never

.

l

e

t

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

no

matter

.

how

far,

.

.

o

r

.

.

how

low,

.

o

r

.

how

deep

–

–

you

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

always

.

b

e

.

there

.

a

t

.

the

.

crossroads . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

will

.

gently

–

–

tow,

.

a

n

d

.

tug,

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

tow,

.

a

n

d

.

tug,

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

tow,

.

a

n

d

.

tug,

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

tow,

.

a

n

d

.

tug,

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

u

n

t

i

l

–

–

–

you

.

release

.

t

h

a

t

.

heavy

.

load,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

are

.

ready

.

t

o

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

when

.

t

h

e

.

journey

.

i

s

.

painful

.

a

n

d

.

slow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

when

–

–

there’s

.

nothing

.

b

u

t

.

sleet

.

a

n

d

.

snow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ even

after

–

–

blow,

.

u

p

o

n

.

blow,

.

u

p

o

n

.

blow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

nothing

.

b

u

t

.

shame

.

t

o

.

show . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

there

.

i

s

.

never

.

a

.

place

.

s

o

.

devoid

.

o

f

.

soul,

.

.

t

h

a

t

.

.

you

.

c

o

u

l

d

.

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

which

.

w

o

u

l

d

.

shake

.

m

y

.

boundless

.

belief

.

o

f

.

hope . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

a

t

.

.

.

I

.

w

i

l

l

.

tug

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

tug

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

tug

.

a

n

d

.

tow . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

–

–

–

end

.

o

f

.

that

.

rope . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

t

–

–

–

the

.

crossroads . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

someday

.

bring

.

y

o

u

.

home.

Reflection: This was a popular inspirational/hope-themed poem I wrote back in July of 2022 to reflect a strong and undying commitment of helping someone through his or her life-struggle until a brighter time arrives. I used the song “He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother” by The Hollies to play 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.

I

.

thought

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

you,

–

–

when

.

I

.

turned

.

a

n

d

.

tuned

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

turned

.

a

n

d

.

tuned

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

moved

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

.

avenues,

–

–

where

.

dreams

.

a

r

e

.

brewed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

blues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

moved

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

.

avenues,

–

–

where

.

dreams

.

a

r

e

.

brewed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

blues

.

o

f

.

truth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

then,

.

.

I

.

thought

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

you . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

thought

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

you,

–

–

who

.

w

a

s

.

always

.

one

.

o

f

.

the

.

few,

.

.

I

.

did

.

n

o

t

.

have

.

t

o

.

choose

.

o

r

.

prove . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

thought

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

you,

–

–

who

.

w

a

s

.

one

.

o

f

.

the

.

few,

–

–

who

.

always

.

h

a

d

.

the

.

time

.

a

n

d

.

the

.

room . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

always

.

h

a

d

.

the

.

time

.

a

n

d

.

the

.

room

.

f

o

r

.

fools,

–

–

who

.

lose

.

a

n

d

.

choose

.

t

o

.

brood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

lose

.

a

n

d

.

choose

.

t

o

.

brood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

only

.

remember

.

w

h

e

n

.

they

.

turn

.

a

n

d

.

tune

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

turn

.

a

n

d

.

tune

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

move

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

.

avenues,

–

–

where

.

dreams

.

a

r

e

.

brewed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

blues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

move

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

.

avenues,

–

–

where

.

dreams

.

a

r

e

.

brewed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

blues

.

o

f

.

truth . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

an

.

old

.

b

u

t

.

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

.

youth,

–

–

resumes

.

a

n

d

.

becomes

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

too

.

much

.

a

n

d

.

too

.

many

.

t

o

.

pursue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

old

.

b

u

t

.

warm

.

a

n

d

.

welcome

.

youth,

–

–

resumes

.

a

n

d

.

becomes

.

new . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

too

.

much

.

a

n

d

.

too

.

many

.

t

o

.

pursue . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

those

–

–

who

.

move

.

d

o

w

n

.

the

.

avenues,

–

–

where

.

dreams

.

a

r

e

.

brewed

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

blues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

fools

.

w

h

o

.

lose,

.

a

n

d

.

choose

.

t

o

.

brood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

fools

.

w

h

o

.

lose,

.

a

n

d

.

choose

.

t

o

.

brood . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ for

fools

.

w

h

o

.

lose,

.

a

n

d

.

choose

.

t

o

.

brood

.

d

o

w

n

.

those

.

avenues . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

then,

–

–

turn

.

a

n

d

.

tune

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

turn

.

a

n

d

.

tune

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

.

moon . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

think

.

a

b

o

u

t

.

you.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem that I wrote back in August of 2022 where the contemplator looks back on a wonderful experience he or she had with someone in the past – whether a friendship, romance, or something else. I played the wonderful song “Feels So Good” by Chuck Mangione (especially the more melancholic intro to the album version of the song) 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.

The

sunset

fades

–

–

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

somehow

–

–

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

somehow

–

–

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

time

erased . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

yesterdays

–

–

that

got

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ they

got

away

.

a

n

d

.

time

erased . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

.

.

.

I

can

sometimes

–

–

still

see

–

–

the

pristine

places

.

a

n

d

.

the

smiling

faces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

can

sometimes

–

–

still

see

–

–

the

pristine

places

.

a

n

d

.

the

smiling

faces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

even

feel

the

–

–

warm

embraces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes,

I

can

–

–

even

feel

–

–

the

warm

embraces . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

those

carefree

days

.

o

f

.

passionate

plays

.

a

n

d

.

shimmering

champagnes

–

–

that

somehow

–

–

got

away.

Reflection:  I was playing the wonderful song “Times of Your Life” by Paul Anka and the poem pretty much wrote itself – when I played the song repeatedly on low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. The poem was written fairly quickly – like an hour or so. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes

.

o

f

.

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe

–

–

where

we

–

–

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

get

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

–

–

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

get

away

.

i

n

.

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

pain . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

blame . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ get

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

same,

–

o

l

d

–

same . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

We

could

stay

.

a

n

d

.

embrace

.

i

n

.

a

place

–

–

far

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

plans,

.

a

n

d

.

hopes,

.

a

n

d

.

dreams

–

–

that

would

–

–

flame,

.

a

n

d

.

flicker,

.

a

n

d

.

fade . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

debts

–

–

we

would

–

–

accumulate

.

a

n

d

.

pay . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

pay

.

a

n

d

.

accumulate . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

all

.

t

h

e

.

reasons

.

a

n

d

.

ways

–

–

we

felt

.

s

o

.

ashamed

.

a

n

d

.

thought

.

w

e

.

had

.

t

o

.

find

.

a

.

place

.

t

o

.

pray . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

away

.

f

r

o

m

.

the

things

–

–

they

–

–

might

do

.

o

r

.

say . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

f

–

–

–

they

knew

–

–

we

felt

–

–

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ if

–

–

they

knew

–

–

we

felt

–

–

this

way . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

love

.

t

h

e

.

rain

–

–

upon

.

t

h

e

.

window

panes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

cozy,

–

–

candlelight

cafe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

where

we

–

–

could

embrace,

.

a

n

d

.

stay,

.

a

n

d

.

get

away.

Reflection: This poem is written as a reflection on a forbidden romance. I wrote this poem using a much-loved 70s song (“Me and Mrs. Jones” by Billy Paul). So, if you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it. It only took me a couple of hours to write it which is unusually fast when I write poetry.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

it

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

days

.

o

f

.

grand

design . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

It

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

e

n

–

–

–

everything

smiled

.

a

n

d

.

rhymed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Everything

smiled

.

a

n

d

.

everything

rhymed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Everything

smiled

.

a

n

d

.

everything

rhymed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Everything

smiled

.

a

n

d

.

everything

rhymed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

it

.

w

a

s

.

easy

.

t

o

.

decide . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

s

o

–

–

–

yes,

–

–

there

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

when

it

.

w

a

s

.

almost

mine.

Reflection: This was a melancholy-themed poem that I wrote back in June of 2022 where the contemplator looks back on a once-in-a-lifetime experience, romance, success, or opportunity where he could have gotten exactly what he or she wanted at the time but didn’t for whatever reason and is now taunted and haunted by the memory.

I played the wonderful song “Could It Be Magic” by Barry Manilow, 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 half an hour or so. I didn’t feel the need to continue reflecting on it and tweaking the words like I usually do. It just felt complete, so I immediately published it. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

The

crowd

.

w

a

s

.

all

around . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

you

wore

.

t

h

a

t

.

crown . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

crowd

.

w

a

s

.

all

around . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

h

e

n

–

–

–

I 

hit

.

t

h

e

.

ground . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I 

hit

.

t

h

e

.

ground . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

middle

.

o

f

.

that

round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I 

hit

.

t

h

e

.

ground . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

middle

.

o

f

.

that

round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I 

hit

.

t

h

e

.

ground . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

middle

.

o

f

.

that

round . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

w

i

t

h

–

–

–

the

memories

–

–

counting

down.

Reflection: This was a melancholy-themed poem that I wrote back in June of 2022 where the contemplator comes to the realization that when his or her romantic relationship is put to the test, it turns out to not be nearly as strong or solid as previously thought. This poem came to me at a party where I observed couples being surrounded by the temptations of the moment. I pondered how many relationships ended as a result of such parties and events.

If 

you

.

d

o

. 

nothing

.

t

o

.

appear . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

r

–

–

–

make

.

i

t

.

seem

–

–

you

.

w

e

r

e

.

here . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

t

h

e

n

–

–

–

you’ll

.

o

n

l

y

.

disappear.

Reflection:  This tiny poem was inspired by Kevin Morby’s song: “Disappearing.” I played this song in the background to create the “moodset” and inspire the writing of the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.