Ginger Girls

There will always be blondes

of suspect origin,

and brunettes with eyes alluring, 

but then there are the gingers,

Oh yes, those burnished copper coils 

and flashing azure eyes 

to which none compare; 

real women, as women are meant to be, 

a handful, untamed, passionate. 

Places

"There is no there there."

I know this to be true

for when I go there

I am now 'here',

neither nowhere nor there

but here, and at best

in this moment

the finest place.

Quotation by Gertrude Stein from Everybody's Autobiography

Unrequited Joy

She has a certain something

or more correctly stated

there is something about her

something so beautiful

     it can't be expressed in words

and thus makes the heart ache

in unrequited joy.

I've Much To Learn

From My Cats

I was needy today

so Gabby climbed in my lap

     to deliver a kneading.

She seemed quite content

to ply my soft belly with light steps

and to nuzzle my whiskered chin.

and distraught by my intentions to write.

She wished not to debate my problems,

didn't truly demand I return her affection,

just content to tenderize my tummy.

And then it occurs to me -

Were I to be more intent on planting virtues

I should be less in need

of uprooting vices.

Fewer Desires

I feel some things less intensely

than when I tarried near the front

and my listless old smile

and bitter knowledge of what was

          has gone away

carried with it as it crossed

what I feared, and much

          of what I desired.

There are few things left to desire;

a yellow and fragrant rose bush

          outside my window

or perhaps gardenias

          and night-blooming jasmine.

Merry-go-round

I knew things years ago
in ways long since forgotten
that I was dearly loved,
and summers' caressing breeze
whispers your name to my lips
while toying with my hair
recalling your absent touch.
 Is it now?  Is it now?
It has been forever
and still I wonder how
a twilight existence of ephemeral shadow
became a grim reality.
Assuredly,
my past does come to call and ride
the merry-go-round of my mind
taking but a moment
to engulf my present
and make it less a gift.

Memories

I

In many mornings'

        waking reverie

the soft fall

of your bare feet

        padding closer

was the messenger

come within my heart,

calling in secret

II

Not long before the dawn
I rose to watch you sleeping,
not knowing 'twas my intent
to bask in the holiness that covered you,
and there staying at your side
'til your waking fingers slipped around mine,
sleepy-soft eyes fluttering
to revive mornings' kiss
and greeting, "Daddy."

III

My un-poetic imaginings
recall her staring into another's eyes
as we had peered to depth
in our beautiful eyes,
and I drank the lees of her wine. . .

IV

I had to dissect a live frog once,
and knowing what to expect
was nonplussed to find
a beating heart inside.
Would that I had such skill
in navigating life and love
where there exist
no anatomical charts.

V
Soft, fair-pale skin,
tender searching hands,
hair dripping from mornings' shower
     traces across my waking chest,
those morning glory memories
go now weeping away.