Poems

A Song


Two days it's been,
Two days since when
I summoned up a song
From the cauldron of my mind.
The warlock stirs, but ill-defined.
And everything is wrong.


Sleep, the wage you do not earn!
The kaleidoscope again will turn.
And wakefulness unweary
Will perceive the blue-grey dawn,
And a moon that's nearly gone,
And all the world is bleary.


9-5-13

Generations


So many, many beautiful things
In oblivion -
Tastes expire and values change
And what was good is gone.


Am I so old?  I was born
In 1946.
What is joy to some, to others
Warrants rocks and sticks.


The declension started
When Puccini died.
So little art, but so much money
Keeps them satisfied.


9-5-13


Old Tricks


I had no friends -
Or so I said
To everyone who met me,
Just some tricks who liked to laugh.
And happiness was all.
Rene the hateful said that I
Could not give up an ex!
Well, they're given up today
All sailed in odd directions
On the sea of time.
I know we'll never meet again.
I'll probably forget them.
But I am 67 soon.
So when will I forget?


9-3-13

The Agent


My best poems all were written
In the world with you.
They exist
That were not before.
They are here.
I hold them in my hand.
You matriculate to agent,
Still remaining friend,
And I shall have a publisher
If the verses warrant.
Perhaps the circle is fulfilled,
Muse to recognition.


9-3-13