This poem was written when I laying in bed at the hospital. It had to be quick because the doctores were getting ready to wheel me into the operating room
Her Celestial Voice I heard the language of the Gods As if through melodious goldenrods Songs of lament, joyful, and pure Then life became an exotic overtur…
Outside my window I saw him there With his peaks in view high in the… My mountain and I stood side by s… Sharing secrets with nothing to hi… My confidant and long time friend,
Springtime with its renewed optimism cast away the dark days of winter. They had worn the spirit down, and man needed that boost to raise himself from his baseness. Almost everyone be...
She laughed with her friends, but only a half hearted laugh. The other half was in control of her emotions for fear of exposing her inner self, that joyful or sad self that suffers fro...
Body of woman, body of man, A design above all earthly thought… Of systems generating systems, An eternal desire staying on cours… Of each replica remaining exact,
Paradise lives right around the co… With its yellow eves growing ever… Her feet suspended in the sky, Among the clouds and upward high. She is an angel as soft as snow,
My Love-Mobile Hi ya there, Toots How about a ride in my Love mobile? I finally washed it and
He received his PHD in music composition at Berkeley. He wrote a symphonic piece that was performed by the New York Philharmonic at Carnegie Hall and received a standing ovation. Ev...
New Years Eve is our evaluation t… to see where we are on our upward… to see how much we have done last… and what we have to do in future’s… For every step needs to be weighed…
I of service to the Poet Gods, the kinds with no hands nor feet, but keen eyes, celestial minds and tyrannical tongues, chose me, a man with no dreams,
Everyone seeks comfort; someone or some group to enjoy being with to share the humor and joy. He must also have someone to share and rationalize his ideas with. He must have someone to ...
Squeezing out of the blue on tears of impatient clouds, riding in on the wind, methodical words broken up into carefree lines and shapes,
When the music is a runaway horse, and the frantic pulses run their c… and the nerves jump out of their h… as the frantic fires heat up the c… and the music loses its poetic cha…
Melodies filling up the mind in mo… streaming through the clouds and m… carrying torches to the open heart… and good will on high from the mus… from the spirit where lives the pr…
Like skyborne rhythms and graceful… poetic motion of the ebb and flow lofted oceans and seafarer’s heave… commander of the quiet immobile sk… drifting in and out of nebulous cl…