Tag Archives: love poem

Oath of June

“Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” “I do.” “You may now kiss the bride. Liar.”

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Muse bemuse

She has been a muse nothing more and everything less since we met as teens inspiration still flows from a fleeting reminder; hearing her name (commonly used by others out of parental laziness) the searing stubbed-toe pain of an emotional … Continue reading

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Hummel a few bars and they’ll fake it

carnal garden gnomes filling my shelves with tchotchkes; time to trim big leaves

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Poured forth

The bartender is skeptical; less than most of his peers more transparent about it than many fellow mixologist hesitant in his urge to believe the guy on the stool adjacent to mine doesn’t understand the resistance, thus taking the credibility … Continue reading

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Restraint

I burn for you. Remembering school hallway posters advising when in flames, stop, drop, roll. Subconsciously heeding long suppressed laminated pictograms I have resisted the urge to do the safe thing whenever you walk in as my resulting floor gyrations … Continue reading

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Like son, like father

The daughter of close friends looks at my son like that they have known each other since first grade – a time when looking at each other like that would have been unthinkable; icky, gross…dis-GUS-ting! Now she looks at him … Continue reading

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Outside the lines

You opened me like a book thumbed through the pages of boldly outlined pictures mercurially finding one you chose your weapon from boxed arsenal; a sharp one, new to the point and unused you are the 64-box of Crayola’s using … Continue reading

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Antipasto!

Dinner with my Valentine; wine and Sinatra Fine haiku-be-do-be-do…

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But is it art?

Large, bold strokes spray painted symbols, words innocent and sinister hieroglyphs and slogans in black and blue on pulsating, animated canvas Names, times, events, places feelings and forgotten emotions weathered, all Some are ancient, indecipherable some still hurt some never … Continue reading

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“Portrait de Madonna; mère de mes fils, vendredi soir” (Madonna portrait; mother of my sons, Friday night)

After some ongoing, sad-eyed cajoling you agreed to a Friday night date night not of your choosing or comprehension posing for nervous artist and sketch pad you acquiesced to your best black pumps, resolute: no clenching of rose in teeth … Continue reading

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