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Category Archives: Friendship

The Soul of Maurice J. *[A dedication to Paul Lenzi]

*( written 5 yrs ago with another of my family’s  Patriarch’s Passing)

 

 It was three days

And three nights

Before he could rise again.

 

Death invites itself

Long before we receive

Its invitation.

 

The Soul with grace

And poise

Accepts the moment.

 

Who then is preoccupied

With judgement

Of this one;

 

Of this mist

That is dried by the sun

And returns as the pond?

 

The passage

Is insignificant

If balance has been achieved.

 

Only the witnesses

Are important

As another soul is freed.

 

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17 Comments

Posted by on July 14, 2018 in Existential, Friendship, Life, Love, Prose Poetry, Spiritual, Zen

 

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Bobby, Michelle, and Priscilla [A Mid-1950’s Tale]    

 

 Lightning in a thunderstorm flashing —streaking through the sky.

Hidden in shadows —frightened by the glow;

Richard ran home in darkened skies

before the thunder —could shake the ground.

 

Quickly finding a door unlocked, he opened it.

Kerosene cook stove glowing; he took his seat at the table with a sigh

—finding himself, not alone, with baby Bobby

and his older sisters, Michelle and Priscilla inside.

(this day after 5 yrs. having been separated by age and gender, we left together from St. Peter’s Orphanage, holding each other’s hands, knowing this is, are only home)

 
13 Comments

Posted by on May 3, 2018 in Friendship, Life, Love, Sisters

 

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Love’s Illusion~ rev:71a

     

Yes, Love, I was born with the first waxing moon.

Bald, without a thought for a tea’s afternoon;

—we embraced, dancing in every crook and cranny of my mind,

only to find myself as no one, and finding no place there.

~~~~

Oh failing heart, why did you forgo me?

To enter space where I would thirst?

Then, drowned me in a sea of deserts bleached sand.

Perhaps, in the essence of  moonlight and sunlight

—I will find You, where their lights both meet, and see

 what I have never lost nor have ever found.

 
 

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Notes Found On The Refrigerator March 2018

I don’t want to do the dishes!

Screw it!

I have a saved pocketed packet—

from Wendy’s four for four dollars;

salt and pepper, fork, and a napkin.

I’ll eat out of the can.

     *****

They complained I stayed in bed all day.

That’s not true.

I get up to eat

and go to the bathroom.

     *****

[Chorus]

I have spent my life pleasing others

Whether friends, lovers, or out of respectability.

I did it without regret for the experiences.

 

Finding a self, by its self

In the grace of Mystery in an unknowing cloud

I now, have to learn how, to please myself

—without offending another.

     *****

I remember when I would waddle like a duck

—but being a Quack wasn’t always fun 😊

     *****

Repeat [Chorus]

 
13 Comments

Posted by on March 31, 2018 in Existential, Friendship, Life, Love, Prose Poetry, Zen

 

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PoPo Teaches Grandpa A Lesson [rev2]

How stupid am I?

Well it starts out like this—

My Grandson, leaving a summer math class
carrying a piece of folded paper

—Followed by his gracious and grinning teacher

I asked, “What is that?”

Pointing to his hand holding the paper,

Hoping it wasn’t a note from the “warden”

Being shot by one of his righteous and never wrong Heroes.

He handed it to me—
It was a bunch of math problems
He needed to solve before tomorrow’s class.

Looking at it with a quick glance,

Spotting the first problem to be solved—

I asked, “What’s 9 times 3?”
Looking at the sky,

As we were going towards the car
Quietly said, “27”

Hmmmm!

Then he turned towards me and asked,
“What’s 9 times 0?”
I said “9”! Quite proudly—

 Both he and his teacher burst out laughing
As she patted my grandson

On the back, saying, “see you tomorrow.”

Opening our car doors, he said,
“Grandpa, you know what ever number times zero
Will always be zero.”

 Driving off

I looked in the rear view mirror
And saw him wearing my baseball cap
Usually left in the back—

He was wearing it backwards
And giving me this shit eatin’ grin.

It was a long ride back

Thinking how smart I really am.

 

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The House On Mason Road, In Sandwich, NH

The house on Mason Road

is set in the woods with a dirt driveway.

                                                —Mail box leaning

is the only indication of an entranceway.

Both for the snowplows and visitors.

—One, hopefully will miss—

The other, with blinker on

                                                —will turn in

Around the wooded curve to a clearing

where there, sits a house on Mason Road.

King, Princes, and Queen of the peaceful

Open Fire Tribe, harmoniously reside;

surrounded by pines, hardwoods,

                                                — and one apple tree.

Two Princes protect the entrance

With a bold plastic pink flamingo

                                                —ready to pounce

On imaginary villains who mean to do “good” harm!

Prince Popo? First with a plastic hammer; if the shadow has a cast.

Prince Gavyn? Waits for introductions, ducking once or twice

in the invisible clash… eventually both smile with relief

as they are greeted with the sight of bright  white teeth,

                                                —giving the signal to continue,

to all walk towards the fire

with hugs and handshakes when possible

                                                —Since most of them have their arms full.

Bringing food, twigs, beer, wine, whiskey, and wood

for an evening’s non-occasion meeting of the Fireside Tribe.

Conversation and laughter overtakes everything

as tradition prescribes,

                                                —they put all things,

other than their ancestors,

 And their continued fellowship

                                                —aside.

 

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A Father’s Wedding Card To: Jessica and Dylan

“Over and over and over you begin.

Drop, fall, falling and fall

 In love again— as the seasons pass,

See your hearts reflection

Looking through the window

One elbow on the windowsill.”

 

You grew from a seed, fallen from an oak. In your fall

You were embraced in the womb of bright-colored fallen leaves

—quilted for the comfort of winter

—made just for you.

 

It is nature’s well-attended consummation.

 

Cleansed by snow, baptized in spring rain,

 Encouraged by the earth beneath you,

The sun of life above you—

You grew with patience, understanding, and perseverance.

 

 Now, having watched all seeds grow: let me fall again

—in age with roots entwined and with fallen branches

To nourish you, with patience, understanding, and perseverance

—to build your own home in harmony with nature’s beautiful quilt,

 

As you drop, fall, falling, and then fall in love again

Over and over and over, you begin.

 

 
16 Comments

Posted by on May 31, 2017 in Father, Fathers, Friendship, Love, Nature, Prose Poetry

 

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