My Poems

[pbel]

Uncle Tony



Your death was

not easy on

any of



us…you were



The stable rock

who would assure

us



With a smile and firmness

in your voice;

bringing us bread from



work.


Has it really been

so long ago when you brought your

entire family from the old country? …My



First glimpse of

America from the back

seat of your black


Plymouth or Doge,

the one with runners on both sides,

the excitement of a boy!



An uncle is not any easy loss,

a window to the past,

genetically linked by



Blood and destiny, I’m going miss you.

 

[2ndAmendment]

awww, I appreciated that. So true, so true .... sorry for your loss.

 

[pbel]

(circa 2004)

Love is Blind


Only a week
And already you
Have stolen

My heart...

My senses tell
Me not to worry
And let you enter

Unhindered...

My mind is
Racing through
The secrets of the

Universe, enjoying
Every moment
And I know

I'm in love.

 

[pbel]

The Wall (for Stephen Steriti)

Forgotten men of ‘Nam,
how can we know
the hidden horror

twisted children's
eyes that follow
to the foothills

of old Vermont?

How can we
sense
the bitter sorrow

of being casualties
of simple
common

time?

Agent orange,
Mai Lai, the General’s
fuel to stoke

his fire...

Fifty thousand names
inscribed in stone
and counting,

Don't let us forget...

 

[kellina]

Your poems are beautiful.

 

[devonte]

Awesome Poem. Waiting for more poems from you like this.

 

[pbel]

A musical play with George Gershwin’s Concerto in F&#8230
Opening (dialogue of a black man walking up-town to Harlem…

The City

The city,
Inharmonious cacophony
Of swollen dreams,…

The city,
Glorious ballet
Of neon overtones,

The city is mine…


No-one can
See my face, it has
Become

Invisible,


No-one can sense
The smile of
A man become divisible

Brilliant, inharmonious
Stark the city is

Mine.



(Song opening)


No-one can
See my face, No-one
Can sense

This bitter soul of mine;

Though I walk
Down the street, smile
And I greet

No-one can see

And No-one can
Sense this
Soul of mine…

 

[pbel]

The City cont...monologue and song...(Concerto in F by George Gershwin music.)




The Clown

I am a pensive
Clown whose voice
Lies hidden

Amongst so many
Shades of earthy whites
And heavy pastel

Blues…I am

A focus into
Each master’s crown
Tonight

In a fixed
Point of view,


I am a
Clown of color
Whose

Voice lies hidden
amongst
These endless

Hues...



I am a score
Of lonely song
In desperate

Mood...

As I walk up
and down
Fifth Avenue,

I am a war
Of words
Lost


To old horizons amongst
So many words
To choose,

I am a clown
A very pensive
Clown.

 

[pbel]

Sicilia

Sicilia, for many
Years I’ve
Heard

Your Siren’s song
As you’ve beckoned for
My return,

And with
This dream of
Silent song

You’ve brought
Me home
From my sojourn,

I remember
The rolling hills
Which formed our

Early visions
As we raced along
Each canyon’s edge,

I remember
The boyhood thrills
So void of

Indecisions,
As we hid
Along the bird filled

Hedge…


Sicilia, when will
Your song be heard
Within

These silent shores again?

When will your hand
Be freed from
Death by water?

Hurry up please, its time!

 

[pbel]

Infinity



What is

This force

Which binds us?



Is it simply

Just beyond the

Human scope



To understand

That each man’s

Hope is



His-own eternity?



Is not this

Endless cycle

Of birth and dying



Enough to satisfy

Our useless probes

For certainty?



Men of goodwill



Teach us

How to sing

And pray



Men of good will



Show us

The true way,

For thine



Is, for thine was

And always be the

Power



Myoho, Amen.

 

[pbel]

Images



A heap

Of broken

Images



Like shattered

Glass, sharp

Fleeting



Sensations,

Crushed kaleidoscopic

Love.

 

[johnstephen1]

Very Good Poems

 

[pbel]

sea bound

the closeness
to perfect form: constant
variations of


pitch
and sounds,
imprints


of life
on crushed stone
become sand; the search


for sea-glass
the deep blue type,
all at my


door.

 

[pbel]

Summer Sun

Thinking of
Summer's colors
And the warmth

They bring to me,

The sea is glistening
The tides running
In running out

Covering and exposing
Treasures un-seen
And un-touched,

By human hands,

All just for me
To paint a picture
And try catch the

Summer Sun…

 

[pbel]

From a musical play...years ago


going home
now


A touch
of sadness
seems to permeate
an inner soul of
mine, a touch
of bitter madness
sustains so many
rapid dreams of
mine, a touch of
mere devotion, a touch
of mixed emotion, brings
on so many day-dreamed
memories of you. You were
the brightest star, in a darkened
world, you were the simple notion
of not being near nor far, you were the
source of all allusion, you were my resolution,
you were what you are. I’m going home now, I’m
going home, where I’ll be strong, where the willow
weeps for me, where my spirit will be running free…

 

[pbel]

( she sat,
like a burnished pot of gold Americana,
we sat listening to what we were told, nursing
an ancient cavalleria rusticana…)


We tried to be Americana,
But the errors of our ways
were known…

Looking back at distant dreams
always sharing them
alone…

Men of good will
Teach how to…

“Hey, Phil…
is that a desk
you’re making?

I bet that’s going
To get you a real
good grade…

But what will you do with it?”

“…sit still…”


O power
which could make each slave
a king…

O power
which lives
in each man’s dream

give us your word,
give us your hope
give us the truth!


Justinian…
I don’t remember
any blindfolds on you
Did you lose your way
when you crossed the Thames
and became the Anglo Saxon chic?

Have you let the ship
of transitory power
steer your course

Into the profit and loss?


Show us, teach us, the truth.

 

[pbel]

It Goes On…

life,
when I think about
it, I’ve been pretty lucky

No major tragedies

no hidden punishments
to endure, living
a fairly

Simple life of work

and the miracle and mysticism
that follows in having
children,

And love.

It goes on as I
get older filled with
the wisdom

and the knowledge
that it goes on
eternal

having learned
from many mistakes
I trudge on

And thank whatever gods maybe.


11/9/13

 

[pbel]

Why


Sometimes,

in my endless

useless thoughts



About myself,



I feel the smallness

of my existence

and feel so little



that I wonder

why I should care?

why I should



question anything at all? Or

even try to mend

the world?

 

[pbel]

Expecting more





I expecting more,

must do with less, I

expecting the infinite



became so mortal...pushing

hard towards my

dreams…



yet, I am only a whisper



of light, passing through

these horizons

of fleeting days



and nights being



Swallowed by time

I shall join infinity

And rest my bones…