To Love, Fanciful Poems for Children of All Ages

        To Love
        O Peace
        Remember Childhood
        Cool is the Night
        There’s A Little One
        Three Buddha Poems
        April Moon
        Two Poems for an Audience of One
            The Rapscallion of Love is a Destiny Dragon
            The End
        Saving God
        Virginnie-Do

To give and to forgive

        in my heart

        is open.

I give        you give

I forgive    I accept your forgiving.

I give

You give me

I give you give.

I forgive    and thank you.

In lonely days it’s the sun that shines

        and gives to me,

        to you, to mom too.

O Dear Lord                help me to forgive myself,

                        myself and you,

                        -though you’re there now and ever were

                        let me forgive the times I thought you weren’t.

O Lord        help me, forgive me and let me give.

O Lord        blessings blessings blessings.

I give You my love,

To Love,        Alleluia                 Alleluia         Amen.

September 17,1993

O peace & earth

Remember childhood,
Between adventures in the woods and crossing streets
        with sharp nettles and pirate ocean battles
Between weed-grown time and Indians in the sun
Between fire-smoke council and water-balloon fights
Between urgent desire and sand-lot games
Between drenched plans and "Mom I’m bored"
Between free living and broken bikes, bones and hopes
Between haunted cardboard caves and walled-in ancients
        and bloody knees and grass-soft cloud gazing
Between beaches and kites
Between "if I lie I hope to die" and "I ‘m never speaking to you again"
Between here and there and between over and yon
Between forever and forever and forever

Between standing in long lines waiting to ride the roller coaster
        and waiting to be picked last for the team
Between screams and shrieks and watermelon seed spitting contests
        and ice cream cones and curled–up moments
        with the cat and hot-dog days
Between hopes and fears and between now and never

When dreams could be anything and growing-up
        never happened quick enough
When sunset time was not romantic but always too early
When unchecked tears struck the cheek hot and nightmares
        were as real as ghosts
When Mother was comfort and life was long
When hurts went away quicker than stars falling
When the best feeling in the world was walking home from school
        on a Friday afternoon
        and when you and I were friends and
        no one got in between us
When we had days for laughing and time did not exist

Between the covers at night when all was done and night came
        too quickly, but it was so soothing anyway
        and dreams followed which were not half as fanciful
        as life in childhood remembered.

There’s a little one with tears

        holding snow

        cold & shivering

        delighted & scared.

There’s a candle lit for him,

        not wavering

        steadily sending

        Light

        inward & outward,

 

but he won’t know it’s there

for many years.

 

        1
Buddha sits
        big belly
        green heart
    laughing
            -from ear to ear-

                                                                       2
                            Shining star         -blue light
                                    candle light
                                            enormous peacefulness
                            Quiet
                                            perfect
                                            perfect perfection

                            Light always becomes more perfect

It’s nine p.m. and the pitch hasn’t set in quite.
As the low, indistinct shadows hang looming,
I come rolling down the hill
And meet dead on ORANGE FIRE
As big as a house, alarming and ALIVE.

SELENE, luminescent in the sky,
Sets ABLAZE Jamaica Pond
        (ere this dazing, My Cooling Comfort)
And trumpets Her dispatch,
As I stand bemused, ‘twixt real and surreal.

                O Sacred Orb, Queen of the Night,
                Full of splendor and delight,
                Puffed-up in a rage, You charge:
                "Hail the Harvest; Gather and Behold!"

                You light my way back to then and NOW
                You fill me with awesome fright,
                Finally, You tickle me inside,
                Fooling me with Your April Gold.

Two Poems for an Audience of One
January, 2002

                I

The rapscallion of love is a destiny dragon
A nasty dragon, dill on every onion.
French fries and quick soap is all you can ever eat-
        in need of socializing and in effervescent bubbles.

The man walks down the stairs with a cane.
In streets of Paris I saw a red balloon,
I saw the markets close and all the sausages
        and cheese and goats take off for the fair.

I am writing and writing but never do two people meet when
        Maria Callas is singing.
Callas is the only lady of song and that can not be disputed –by Seth or anyone.

In every day language a little red boat is not blue
Nor is the Yellow Submarine a sandwich shop,
But never mind how loud the screaming gets –it will never pierce these ears
        for deafness is gone to the head.

Lately I’ve noticed that the bugs don’t die in the winter as they should.
It is expected that Gert was never humble nor did she really like
        American apple pie.

It is not true what they have said.
It is true what they think.
It is so sad that they do not think as they should.
It is very sad that all exists at all.
And God makes no apologies,
For He is quite compassionate and never lies.

What is it all about?
You never know for sure.

                II

            The End

Will the training ever stop?
In my head is a large blue pumpkin and a pea-pod,
The scary thoughts are frozen in tundra as wild as furry animals and
Fox go out at night sleeking about,
        slurring their steps together like bananas.
Bananas are the favorite.

Whenever it is the right dice –turn it and turn it and then throw.
Before you wear me out wear me again and swear me
        but don’t give me up.
The orchestra has played the last song and the song goes on
        and it is not awful.

It is the computer-magic crystal party
        –white, like light.

End this discourse
        before it is too late to start all over again.

The disclosure is finished.