our steps will always rhyme

  Here’s one of my favorite songs by Leonard Cohen:   I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm Yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new In city and in forest, they smiled like me and you

for my solitary vision

  Here is a poem by Marvin Bell     Questions to Answers     For my unique voice, for my solitary vision, I was given the song of a bird outside my window and all the of the songs that answered to it. For my way with words, for my unusual behavior, listen, I

Tree Swallows, Cape May

Here’s a poem i wrote about thirty years ago:   Tree Swallows, Cape May   At the meadows in mid-September, a million silver tree swallows wallow and swoop in the air, taking great swallows of air, folding up on the tall stalks of marsh weeds like shining Christmas ornaments. As one, they flash like a

Diamonds for the cancer crown

painting:  Plump Plum    by Ria Hills   I am a nine year survivor of advanced cervical cancer.  I wrote a number of “cancer poems” during 2008-2009, when I was undergoing radiation.  This is one of them. It’s written in the form  “Diamonte” which means it’s diamond-shaped.  You’ll see the pattern.   This is not a particularly

Carousel of Time

Here are the lyrics to a song by Joni Mitchell: The Circle Game Yesterday a child came out to wonder Caught a dragonfly inside a jar Fearful when the sky was full of thunder And tearful at the falling of a star Then the child moved ten times round the seasons Skated over ten clear

the ambling pony

Here’s a poem by Thomas Hardy:   Beeny Cliff   O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea, And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free – The woman whom I loved so, and who loyally loved me.   The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed

that shimmers on the brink of absence

Here is a poem by Richard Wilbur,  an American poet, and a favorite of mine:   A World Without Objects is a Sensible Emptiness     by Richard Wilbur   The tall camels of the spirit Steer for their deserts, passing the last groves loud With the sawmill shrill of the locust, to the whole honey of

Foggy morning at the Masonic Home

Here are the final three stanzas of a longer poem I wrote about twenty years ago called “Were You There?” I remember before I went to school, when I was three, visiting my mother’s ancient aunt in the Masonic home, in Elizabethtown Pa. My father and I walked the foggy misty gardens. Many steps, smell