Wednesday, June 22, 2016


To the tune of the song Summertime in Porgy and Bess, I've written another version of how it might read; I doubt there is nothing quite like the original, however....such images it evokes!

Summertime, and the cool lake beckons me
Days are lazy, and fireflies are nigh
A pole to push 'n' pull the raft round the bend
Feel the breeze blowing,
hear the magpies cry

Summertime, and the earth hums tenderly
barefeet and rain, and smell the crayfish fry
Bait on a hook, as you lean against a tree
bees making honey,
kisses your nose, a butterfly


Friday, June 17, 2016

End of the Affair...

I could not say goodbye
to my lover
"Hasta la vista baby" was my mantra
Ties broken, desire receded
into the bleakest bleak oblivion

No longer arrive sweet spicy letters;
there is no 'keeping in touch',
yet lingers the smell of
heady cigar smoke
Out flame! Out spark!
Forget the number I wrote
on the menu 
in a French restaurant

My heart sprang free today
I'm dancing across the moon now 
with a mad Sicilian
Forgive my callousness,
my dear....but oh, 
by the way, 
how is Vivienne?

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Southern Comfort...

At We are writing about statues, breathing life into one of our choosing


At midnight, soft moonlight
accents her halo
where in the garden she stands
balancing, with each arm,
two bowls, 
offering water
and seeds to the birds
Long ago, she was named Wendy,
by people who commissioned the work
of this lovely maiden
in her stone skirt...
could she have known Captain Hook
and Peter Pan?

The hauntingly young girl 
had ironically 
just begun to live
when 'Old Black Magic' cast a spell 
her way
Locals subjected her 
to embellished stories 
of forbidden fruit and gossip
In awe, they imagined
who she was
Why did she die so young?
Was she a victim of 
a bizarre or elaborate plot?

She attracts photographers
and dreamers alike
Like the scale of justice and Libra
Her tilted head pose 
and winsome gaze
could mean a choice was made 
between "Good' and Evil"?
Her posture could symbolize
a fork in the road, 
or a road not taken?

Arms bent at the elbow, 
in a park in the deep south,
mystery lies in folds of her attire,
 untold secrets covered
with new green moss
On one hand, 
it could imply unrequited love; 
on the other hand,
suggest she met a nefarious fate
In Savannah live characters
 of all kinds 
where Voodoo has a way 
of influencing things
In the inscription
carved in the footstone,
 it reads not of  suspense or murder
or illness, 
but states her ordinary yet artful
tapioca resolve

We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the lord.
Corinthians II

Thursday, June 9, 2016

Can you hear (see) me now?

What innovations lie ahead
as cell phone capabilities advance?
Our main connection
to our friends, they're handy
for news at a glance;
for emergencies,
aid is close at hand
Faster, pulses race!
What about a slower,
more personal pace?

What about a more intimate touch,
meaningfulness, for which we yearn;
deep conversations,
innovative ideas, great notions,
beauty to discern
Is it enough or too much -
to make life easier,
to now and then allow us to win a game
Siri of iphone fame understands
it just won't be the same

Now when a man asks Siri,
"May I see your breasts?"
she responds with...
"That question does not compute."
For expressions of love,
there is just no substitute
Imagine a future when she appears-
an apparition in front of you,
gives you a sexy glance
and a tender kiss
A chance at romance
But don't expect me to care;
unless, to make it fair,
there would also be an app
from a man called Lance,
who answers with a deep voice-
lets me touch his hardened abs
It would be, of course,
a socially redeeming
and enhanced app -
under the circumstance,