‘twas never my intent 
to be gone so long
when will new words 
be added to my song
‘twas years I last walked 
this wanderin’ way
followed faint trails 
‘twere never seen by day

advancin’ years can never 
lessen these my dreams
placed bridges across 
those oft misted streams
o'er which must advance 
towards my return
to that resting place 
for which I ever yearn


they who give quickly give twice
that which costs little is less esteemed
who would not laugh at the raving fits
of the man almost out of his wits
over the sudden unexpected breakage
of his more than precious wine bottle
“twould be so nice could I see as such
an equal spillage of his detested blood
looking so far back is indeed sweet
forewarning that the price of nostalgia
can all too often become most bitter


as children we called it a teeter-totter moon
sliver of light held there between us and stars
something we could not comprehend in those years
years filled with amazement shrouded with innocence
innocence that slowly faded along with childhood
childhood memories that were pushed away by war
war that took our youth and turned it into horror
horror that still follows into my advancing years
years that move steadily toward their destined end
end as I still recall that teeter-totter moon


Half past five daily ritual plays out
black, red, yellow, golden plumage aquiver
clarion call toward coming sunrise
much like vaunted ancestor Chanticleer
day must be welcomed so ‘twill come to us

silence reigns now predawn sounds subdued
once proud rooster crows no more 


Our “body-politik” most often called Congress

has become a distinctively American Criminal Class

which meets in private for more than three weeks

trying to prepare a senseless impromptu speech

that allows them to relish and enjoy each new crisis

they would never waste an opportunity such as this

the time has come

I have reached the point
where I no longer savor
thoughts of expressing myself
with this indifferent keyboard
my words have lost their flavor

I struggled futilely for months
upgrade became a catastrophe
my blog became as my aging body
nothing works the same as before
my mountain top approaches

upon me are three anniversaries
the suddenness of my stroke
the passing of my lovely daughter
the beginning of this my blog
the end is fast coming into view