as life’s light fades…

how many
poets
have sat
by
evening’s light
pondering
the end
of life
what words
did they
inscribe
to convey
the feelings
that washed
over them
was
it
fear
wonderment
or
just
a sense
of emptiness
emptiness
for having
spent
a lifetime
crafting words
that
so few
have
heard
amidst
the noise
of life

oneiroi…

it had been years
since he’d
shared a room
with a man
indeed
for 50 years
she had been
by his side
each night
how
clearly
he could still hear
her turning pages
as she read
late
into
the night
sometimes
dozing off
with the book
opened
and
propped upright
as if reading
with
closed eyelids
any attempt
at removing the book
garnered words
of denial
of sleeping
then
the shuffling of more pages
before the nightlight
was permitted
to sleep
however
his new roommate
preferred
old black and white movies
with
the sound set
to compensate
for the hearing aids
so neatly
stored in his desk
so as to save them
for
a special occasion
no doubt
his own funeral
so many changes
not only roommates
but
once great books
provided the escape
from life’s harshness
but now
it was
sleeping
more preciously
dreaming
for in dreams
you can be wherever
you wish
and
these constraints
of life
are
mere delusions
so
there’s no need
to
discern
night
from
day
except
when
she
comes
to
visit

thoughts before knocking…

some doors
are

always closed
no one
dare
enter
nor
seriously consider
what lies
just
beyond
the threshold
other doors
are
partially opened
to
let those
passing by
admired
what lies
just
out of reach
so as to
fill their dreams
at night
but
a few doors
are swung
wide-open
inviting
all travelers
of
this life
welcome
and
a place
to rest
one’s weary
soul

from a mighty fortress…

tell me
what time
will
the angels
of god
descend
from behind
the walls of jericho
and
save this world
from
mankind
taking up
into their arms
a child
of
god
a child
to be given
new life
when
will they arrive
and shall that be
the time
when
the saints
join in song
filling the air
like a thousand
black birds
whirling
above the sadness
we’ve known
for all
too long
when
oh
when
will the angels
arrive
making
the earth
truly
alive

Poem Inspired by Spritual Standards Quinta: Markus Burger (Piano) & Jan Von Klewitz (Saxophone)

Background Music:  A Mighty Fortress is Our God

measuring…

the paint’s
worn off
where your fingers
carefully
calculated
what would be needed
to complete
the job
but
how many hours
were counted
as you made it
take shuffling steps
in and out
of its case
as you
sat
waiting
for
the union bosses
to
punch your card
granting
you
right of passage
to
the job site
and
to
moments of hope
hope
for a better life
for
those you love
better
than
yours
you
the poor
and
unwanted
immigrant seed
cast upon
this nation’s
desert sands
and
told
to grow
without water