To Hope

  No explanation for this poem, just watching the Mediterranean Sea and the wind and pondering…  

Ready, Set, Believe

  I wrote this poem after we had spent half a day with Tamara, our Russian guide, in Moscow touring the Kremlin, Red Square, Lenin’s Tomb, and the Russian Crown Jewels. 

Every Word

  Every Word Every word I write,   I engrave upon your heart, that you will see the hidden person of me without form of beauty, without benefit of education, without power of possession, without significance of fame. Every word I write, I engrave upon your heart that you will know what I reveal, what I conceal,…

The Door

The Door I stumble up the stairway to the harbor of your heart. The light within, shining from the window of your eyes,   draws me deeper. Breathless and trembling, I tap at the entrance. Will you fling wide the door And sweep me to your heart?

Rain Today

We are in Florida, stealing away for a few days of respite. It rained today. I love the rain. I posted this poem sometime ago, but am re-posting. I guess it is how I feel today with the rain.

haiku: language to a writer

  **************** Language to a writer is rare–each word like cellared, reserved wine. ******************* The writer plummets  the river of language for nugget and gemstone.  

Old Woolen Red Coverlet

I wrote this poem in St. Petersburg, Russia, after hearing an old Russian soldier play marches on his accordion in the square. On his wool coat, he had pinned dozens of military medals he had won fighting for the ideals of Mother Russia. 

haiku: unexpected

  Aurora Borealis ******************** Out of the blue, a torrential wave overwhelmed unexpectedly. ********************* So passionate and deep and sweet the love that I flung open my heart.  *********************  

haiku: the moon tonight

  ****************** It’s still magic, that silver moon hanging in the dark with contancy.  ******************** I feel the ages in your soft light, those who looked with wonder too. ********************** 

haiku: barren branches

******************* Lacy and austere at once–beautiful barren trees–winter’s mystique. ********************* Frost-covered branches, in winter-land magic, play music when jiggled. **********************