Quick - before the sun
Dips under the horizon again
Let’s make this one
Last shadow rabbit on the wall

Quick - before the rain
Washes the sidewalk again
Let’s play this one
Last game of hopscotch

Quick - before the top
Stops spinning again
Let’s just this once
Relive our childhood

Quick - before the match
Goes out again
Let’s light this one
Last bright candle

Quick - before the music
Stops playing again
Let’s have this one
Last magical dance

Quick- before the second hand
Moves forward again
Let’s finish writing this
Last chapter of our story

Quick - this fleeting moment
May be the only one that’s left
Let’s try to make it
Last as long as it can

Sometimes a Poem

Sometimes a poem is a sudden tear
You never know when and why it will rise
Sometimes a poem is a vivid daydream
It appears in color before your wide-open eyes

Sometimes a poem is a fine sculpture
You can chisel it into a beautiful shape
Sometimes a poem is a lofty tower
You can erect it into a soaring sky-scape

Sometimes a poem is a naughty little girl
Who mocks at you from behind a half-open door
Sometimes a poem is a game of hopscotch
Like skipping through patterns drawn on a floor

Sometimes a poem is a playful lover
Who creeps up behind you and says “Guess who?”
Sometimes a poem is a bashful bride
Tiptoeing tentatively toward an eager you

Sometimes a poem is an April shower
That makes the flowers in your garden bloom
Sometimes a poem is a swing in the park
That cradles you and lifts you away from your gloom

We poets have a secret that is all our own
One that we have never before shared with you
Poems, like saplings, sprout on their own
Laboring over them is a thing we seldom do!

Which Me

Which me is the real me
The person that I am
Or the person I want to be

Which me is the real me
The person who chases mirages
Or the person grounded in reality

Which me is the real me
The one who’s an alien everywhere
Or the one for whom the world is family

Which me is the real me
The one who longs to belong
Or the one who’d rather roam free

Which me is the real me
The man standing on solid ground
Or the man who’s unmoored, all at sea

Which me is the real me
The man who has it all together
Or the man with a fractured personality

Which me is the real me
The person you fell in love with
Or the person you wanted to make of me

Tit for Tat

Why did you suddenly disappear
Where in the world did you go
There you are, locked inside your home
Peering out from a half-open window

How does the shoe fit on the other foot
Now you no longer have the stage
How do you feel when we roam free
And you are the one in the cage

Together we came to inhabit this planet
It was meant for us to share
You alone had the gift of sapience
Yet you decided you didn’t care

For millennia you have taken what’s ours
You’ve used us to satisfy your need
You drove us to near extinction
Oh you creature of insatiable greed

While you cower in your home, afraid
We’re free, we’ll roam at large
For too long now we’ve endured your rule
Let’s show you who’s really in charge

We warned you not to take us for granted
We too can play tit-for-tat
You’ll never know which of us did you in
The pangolin, the swine or the bat

Deeper Well

Don’t tell me about the power of now
Don’t tell me about the farmer and his plow
Don’t tell me what my stars foretell
I need to drink from a deeper well

Don’t insult my feelings with your inane labels
Don’t make my life sound like Aesop’s fables
I’m not in the market for what you want to sell
I need to drink from a deeper well

I’ve heard enough tales of faith and imagination
I’ve heard enough about the need for self-examination
I’ve heard enough clanging of the same old cowbell
I need to drink from a deeper well

Sometimes I am amused by your simple allegories
Sometimes life doesn’t divide neatly into categories
Sometimes life’s answers are not on a carousel
I need to drink from a deeper well

Frankly, I find your good cheer pestilential
Frankly, my dilemmas are quite existential
Frankly, I just don’t fit into your clientele
I need to drink from a deeper well

I’ve learned the lessons that a hard life teaches
I’ve no time left for motivational speeches
I’ve no penchant for philosophies in a nutshell
I need to drink from a deeper well

The inspiration I need will not fall from a tree
The inspiration I need is not in a book or a movie
The inspiration I need lives in my every cell
I need to drink from a deeper well

State of Mind

Sequestered, secluded
Cordoned off and confined
We can stew in our own juices
Until we lose our minds

We can rue what we’ve lost
Like our youthful good looks
We can rustle the yellowed pages
Of those old, dog-eared books

We can argue, we can bicker
And get on each other’s nerves
Or we can stop, we can think
Of what purpose it serves

We can remember the time
When we first became lovers
We can recapture the joys
That together we discovered

We can remind ourselves
This is a blessing, not a curse
If we didn’t have each other
Life would be a whole lot worse

We can rely on each other
For comfort and consolation
We can inspire each other
In our splendid isolation

We can cherish our good luck
That we are holding up so well
Our home’s not our prison
It’s our stronghold, our citadel

Let’s become who we’re meant to be
Loving, compassionate and kind
‘Cause baby, this confinement
Is only a state of mind

Black Swan

I worry that I will never 
See Paris in the rain
I’m afraid that I can never 
Love New York again

I fret that my feet 
Will never again roam in Rome
I lament that in London 
Big Ben will chime alone

My heart cries for the ones
Slowly losing their breath
My thoughts hover over 
Those dying a lonely death

The ones whose families 
Can’t even say goodbye
The ones who are left looking 
At the sky, asking why

It’s hard enough to grieve 
For the ones who are gone
It’s even harder for those 
Left here to live, forlorn

With the world at a standstill 
There's nothing left to do
No jobs, no money 
Nothing to look forward to

I can count my blessings 
I’m luckier than most
My ticker’s still ticking 
It hasn’t given up the ghost

I have a roof over my head 
My loved ones near me
But try as I might 
I can’t escape this anxiety

John Prine once sang 
That he had the key
That helped him escape 
From his harsh reality

Well he’s not with us any more 
One of so many who are gone
And I’m left here, staring 
At this horrible black swan