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Category Archives: Love

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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Notes Found On The Refrigerator June, 2018

~Five Short Haibun(s)~

   

   1.

     She swam naked with her friends; I sat on the shore haunted by “Original Sin”. I watched fully dressed, as summer would allow, watching her swim.

Eve in confidence

allowed spring to leave and bow

to summer solstice

 ***

2.

     I’m following a long lineage of incompetency that has gotten lucky at times. But, most times, mistakes were flown over my head and wondered, “what the heck was that?’ Then, those lucky times, what I wanted to do, seem completed, with what I did.

sit dandelion

the mower has yet to come

enjoy the green grass

 ***

Dandelion comp

        

 

 ***

3.

(Last Night’s Lover)

     She deferred her last glass of wine to what she felt, before passing out in a warm summer evening sleep.

     Awaking before sunrise, she looked and found the keys to her car that she had illegally parked on the curb, between two maple trees.

     Leaving her underwear between the sheets and without a parking ticket, she smiled as her tires chirped with a happy squeal and went south for the winter.

spring rain on lush greens

drips on dandelion weeds

loving what it feels

***

4.

      Who puts a half piece of toast with jelly and peanut butter in the frig at midnight, after eating the first half ten minutes before?

 

lightning bug shines

in the dark of yesterday’s

story still untold

 ***

5.

     So, you told me that life never ends. yet… you want me to sign a contract in blood, with my soul; nailed to a post of my past —as you fiddled with us in Rome and roasted us silently in hell.

     You promised us redemption and angels as brides! And they, would receive us into life ever after. But, what are you doing for us now? Without anger or flood to keep our heads above the waters.

what season is light

when darkness seems to prevail

in hearts without love

*photo by R.K.Garon in his cave and his "barn".
A Special Thanks to Björn Rudberg for introducing me to Haibun and Bashō.
 
22 Comments

Posted by on June 23, 2018 in Haibun, Haiku, Love, New Hampshire, Spiritual, Zen

 

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An Autumn’s Rush

Dripping trees from an autumn rain

shake off summer leaves to cushion my path.

Some circle and drift, falling softly in my hair.

They, accompanying their colors,

bright orange, reds, and yellow-green,

crown me —with a passing season’s wreath.

 

 

A northern New Hampshire wind threads steadily through the pines.

I continue to exhale gray smoke from my cigarette.

With your memory, I slide through Franconia Notch a step above slow

—soaking wet, cigarette still lit, chasing a summer’s love

before my path and its pine scent, are covered by snow.

*****

*Originally written in Sept. 2014 with several edits since

 
8 Comments

Posted by on May 17, 2018 in Erotica, Love, New Hampshire, Pine Cone Diaries, Poetry, Zen

 

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Last Evening’s Dream

 

Dawn flirts the tips of yawning waking leaves.

My eyes catch sunlight, rising from an open window.

A hundred morning creases peak through the linen

above smooth sheets. I light a cigarette from across the room,

watching you sleeping, bathe in the first morning’s sunbeam.

I saw you, still smiling, rumpled and stretching out last evening’s dream.

 
17 Comments

Posted by on May 12, 2018 in Beginnings, Erotica, Existential, Love, Poetry, thoughts, 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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Offspring’s

I watched:

Fall leaves flutter and swirl —raised to dance in the arms of a Spring wind;

settling them down at the base of the trees, where they were born.

Father Winter has gone.

 

I saw:

His summer’s mistress awaken in moist dawn, not giving a damn.

Cuddling her offspring’s with sunshine –she sang them lullabies.

Coloring them with a promising  growing up, with their Father’s pride.

photo: R.K. Garon

 

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