A Blessing and Bane (A poem)



this slurping, soupy arrangement 
stays my amused satisfaction.
cars skidding and skirting
orbiting each other
a cacophony of incompetent
unorganized Ice Skaters.
It spills out, splashes down
drowning sashes of sorrow
in the middle of my selfish parade…
after all this circus act
cut from blistering fingers
ripe with sweat and hardened calloused hands
this stampede of interruptance
has caused ME to suppress my de-testment  of 
these frosted inconvenient deposits underfoot.
I will trample them
trump their self worth into the soles of my 
black leather shoes…
Howling madly at their existence 
here on the eve of smiling spring
on the prowl
like a careful cat at the door

I store my response,
predator ready,
fist clenched and half raised
yet frozen in traction
taking aim to wandering eyes
peering back at me. 
my son, snow suited and 
joyfully standing at the ready
for me to take him out into it
and catch a glimpse of
my childhood again.


Summer dreams (A poem)


In the bliss of winter’s frozen kiss
as Ice is formed, abrasive and painful
an Angel with wings unfurled
left her mark in the mounds of silky snow.

I do not know what transpired there
as some walk by and some don’t care
But I’m almost sure I glimpsed heaven’s door
looking out from my frosted window.

With rooftops coated white and wisps of smoke
dancing or escaping elegantly into the crisp atmosphere
I remain here, tightly bundled, blanketed train behind me
perfectly content to let the days of winter kiss another
but not my cheek, nor these feeble hands
I am a child of summer weighted down by this
absence of her soft warming embrace.

And for now…I bide my time.

“Seasons” (A Poem)


In the late autumn,

when trees have discarded


 and we

 have put them on

chasing down the rising dawn

while snow and rains,

claim within us a shiver…or two;

blanketed between soft cottons

and goose feathered downs

we dream perhaps of warmer days

when sunsets lingered and

the choirs of bulbous bull frogs

and field crickets, mahogany in color,

perform in their nightly stridulation

an encore, now sorely missed.


Miles away,

down dusky shadows

Of winding country roads

Enveloped in dust and mud,


Moated and armed

with Barbed-wired

rusting fences…

the brontide sounds of protest

echo and reverberate,

as a dying summer storm collides

and swirls. 

Clouds, dark and foreboding,

curtain the sky as summer

exhales one last staggering breath.

Tears descend

upon the earth,

dampening  the soil

with one last frosted kiss goodbye…

soon, an ushering in of

new birth will meet

us again. 



White as snow



Like snow falling 

white, resplendent

bright enough to blind

and as I place

a muddied footprint

within its folds

I am washing away my filth

something beyond me

something I can not compose

has brought me

thus far

here today…


washed clean

so that I reflect

not the crimson

but the fallen white

refrains of purity.

I am whole again. 

At 3:57AM

At 3:57 in the morning
I check and recheck
My red glowing alarm
I should be asleep
Running through
Dreams in my head
Fluttering eye kids
Like the flapping of
It’s 3:57am
Sleep has once
Again escaped
By window
Or by back door
I’m not sure
But I am not
Alone in the early
Hours before down
Just outside my
Bedroom window
A lonely snow plow
Is pushing up mounds
Of freshly fallen snow
There goes my driveway
Oh well….but as I lie
Here with eyes wide open
And ears alert to the ongoings
I believe that as this heart
Thumps to the rhythm of
The passing plow
We connect at some level
He and I
Both comrades before
The dawn
At 3:57 this one time
Chance encounter
Will go unnoticed by the plow
Though for me
And my sideways glances
At the crimson glow
I am content
To just lie here
For but a little while

At the Ski Lodge



In the Ski lodge

Fried food lingers

to pores, plaster

and particle board walls

it’s a teenage wasteland

of sorts

acne and cells phones

tightly wrapped

in Northface coats

down knockoffs

mittens and scarves

and blistered feet

are engulfed in boots

too tight

strapped, locked in

and ready for

another downward


Idle chatter coats

The tables and chairs

Like syrups of soda

Spilled, layered and sticking

To everything it touches.


Youth lined in coats of safety

Safely glance, withdrawing

And glancing again

Lacking confidence

Coughing nervously

Courageously trying,  failing…

Picking themselves up off

Of the powered snow

Brushing off illusions

Of rejection, injecting

Infected bruised pride

With another shot of

Laughter, red faced

Not just frost bite

Teasing the cheeks and nose

This is living

ski lifts, hot cups of cocoa

Steaming , engulfing souls in this


retrieving mitten hands

Gathering up scarves and hats

Destined for that big jump

That may or may not come

Accompanied with chances

Of bruised pride, ribs and

Collar bones… those that

Are free, full of fried food

Ferry up the slope again

Fighting off such feelings

Of failure,

It’s all downhill

from there.

Inside the cabin
Curtains drawn
in windows of white
Reflecting the
Large flakes of snow
Piling up
in its window frames
Frosting the sill.
While still
Outside on the edge
Of Indian lake
Ice has formed
miles down the road
A bell tolls
calling for its
Lost souls
Somewhere out across
The little bay
Dark and foreboding
A dog barks
Forlorn, seemingly alone…
Snow crunches
Under these cold feet
I Yearn to go
Back inside
As the invitation
Of warmth calls to me
From the tangerine
lighted windows.
This is winter
Placing its
Frosted lips
Giving tepid kisses
On faces and heart
Shivering to the bone.

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