SF

What happened to the old SF,
replaced by elves & trolls,
replaced by horror movies --
no more galactic goals?

The arching sky is calling
spacemen back to their trade,
but we watch in the growing darkness
as Bob Heinlein starts to fade ...

So it's either silly season
or commercial hardware flying.
The Sense of Wonder's gone away,
Suspension of Disbelief is dying.

Sand

Sand through an hourglass
times our days away,
sand lying on a beach
stretches to eternity! 

This tiny cove, I do not doubt
will open up to ocean's broad expanse.
But I prefer to stay within my sandy shelter
and on this beach to dance to dance to dance

The ancient quarrel

Time is what comes later, now is where we're at.
Measure each moment or live your life --
which will bring you happiness, and which will not?

The ancient quarrel that we of Earth hold with Fate:
whatever we accomplish always seems to come too late.

we can see the picture

See my list of poetry.
Written for me?   Written for you?
Whoever likes them best is welcome
to claim the thought, whatever I do.

Hasten to scribble, rush to write,
get it all down by sun or lamp.
Once the document's sealed and sent
is plenty of time for the hand to cramp.

The future is always clearer once it's past
and we can see the picture at last
that smeared across the canvas of our lives
as we performed among an ever-changing cast.

Illusion

Poet, or pagan, or wandering Jew,
battling the world for a place, for a view,
for a chance to see farther than ever before,
a chance to rise up and walk out my front door.

The universe turns within a dark mind
with nirvana to come when we leave it behind,
as if anything matters but what we believe,
fruit of a shriveled and infertile tree.

Tilt my hat and set my feet to walking
till I found the front door open and went in.
The bar was packed but the band was playing
so I found someone and we stepped out to dance.

Let the light within you shine
and never mind the sun and stars
whose distant warmth is metaphoric
while conversation here is so euphoric.

snake

listen to the softly hissing
sliding down the sand dune
snake
leaving no remaining rodents
in his wake

hail the quiet focused hunter
no distraction from the work
nothing turns his gaze aside
seeing just his prey to take

Uncork my life!

Have a glass while on the job.
Drink with care;
don't be a slob.
don't let the boss see you drinking there ...

Aroma is a pleasure
but for intoxication, above all,
I prefer a measure
of alcohol.

Pour me another glass,
and please don't think me crass
if I suggest that drinking to excess
occasionally is best.

And cheers to you, my faithful friend,
that joy of life shall never end.
A sip of life, a taste, a gulp,
juice of the grape, torn from the pulp.


Storing sunshine, poured in a bottle,
waiting to brighten an unhappy day.
Grapes of the hillside, sweet as your smile,
leaving God nothing much more he can say.


The new moon sparkling in the cloudy sky
tempts me to drink to the sight.
Blessed are you, Lord, creator
of the lights in the sky and the fruit of the vine!

Uncertainty

The pen, the paper, the poet's past,
perhaps he'll write again at last, at last,
perhaps he'll pass, and leave the room,
and wander off in the evening's gloom.

haiku paranoia

the world is angry
jews never do what it wants
how gauche: we survive

can you run with them

the night winds howling
like wolves calling to the pack
through the city streets

can you run with them
whispering their hidden names
scenting the fresh blood?

tweeting the middle east

social media have all the reliability of gossip
the power is undeniable but the ultimate effect is less impressive

yay, we have a revolution
hey, revolutions eat their children
say, will anything really change for the oppressed masses?

after the bodies have been hauled away
authoritarian cultures make decisions behind closed doors

quietly howling

coming up for air again
i think i drowned
but then

i find myself swimming with whales
to discuss what is bothering them
or bothering us

whalesong
i dream of a chorus of creatures
who groan
a chorus together who sound so alone

the oceans surrounding the lands of our world
a pond where they wander their round little home