Love Me Till This Dance Is Over

Posted on by
Reply

Suddenly my knees got weak
And I could hardly speak
I’d loved you from afar so long
I’d never felt this way before
You gave me that look and
Then you took my hand
Before I knew what hit me
We were floating ‘cross the floor

Love me till this dance is over
Love me till this song has ended
Love me just a little while
However unintended
Hold me like you mean it
And I may not recover
If you love me
Till this dance is over

I can’t describe the feeling
What came over us this evening
Other people seemed to melt away
And time stood still
Our bodies never warmer
Our hearts beat close together
Heavy as an anvil
Lighter than a feather

Love me till this dance is over
Love me till this song has ended
Love me just a little while
However unintended
Hold me like you mean it
And I may not recover
If you love me
Till this dance is over

Did She Stay With You Till Morning

Posted on by
Reply

Did she stay with you ‘til morning?
Did she fly about the room
like a mystical seductress
with a black hat and a broom?
Did she cook you up a potion
sure to make you fall in love?
Is she who you’re dreaming of?

Did you waltz across the ballroom
in those patent-leather pumps
or did you boogie in the mosh pit
taking in those grinds and bumps?
Did she swoon when you embraced her
as she praised the lord above?
Is she who you’re dreaming of?

Did you dine in fine extravagance
froufrou by candlelight
or did you slam a couple burgers
at the bar on Friday night?
And does her southern mother really have her
wear white satin gloves?
Is she who you’re dreaming of?

Did she stay with you ‘til morning?
Did she awake within your arms?
Did you promise to protect her
from all evil and all harm?
Is her touch that special feeling
that you’ll never get enough?
Is she who you’re dreaming of?

I Just Walked Away

Posted on by
Reply

I’ve been runnin’ down this road an’ I don’t know
if I’m the chaser or the chased
but I stopped here for the night
‘cause either way it’s gettin’ late
An’ I’m runnin’ low on options
I’m runnin’ low on fuel
as I contemplate tomorrow
how to settle up with you
and I speculate the chances whether
I could ever really settle up with you

You know, lately I’ve been rollin’ rough
an’ this trail is windin’ down
so I’ve been wond’rin’ like you
if I’d be comin’ back around
You see I’ve burned a lot of bridges
sometimes, just walked away
but I don’t regret the things I’ve done
most of the time, on most days
no, I don’t regret the things I’ve done
most of the time, on most days

Y’see, the devil wears a kindly mask
as a comrade and a friend
Saint Peter wears a scowl
to condemn and condescend
And I can see the angels comin’
I think they want to take me home
but my view from this motel window
ain’t real good, I may be wrong
yeah, from here the view is hazy
I just might be wrong

I loved you like no other
my torment a grand bouquet
but, I wasn’t sure if you’re the devil or Saint Peter
so I just walked away
And I miss you more than ever
though I’m giving up this chase
an’ the measure of this back ‘n’ forth . . .
it was I who walked away
yes, the essence of this tragedy . . .
I just walked away

Put It On My Bill

Posted on by
Reply

You say that I’ve mistreated you
an’ maybe cheated on you
takin’ all you own an’ leavin’ loneliness
I’m a heartless soul
well, I don’t recall you ever havin’ money
but if that’s the situation, honey
call yourself an Uber an’ just
put it on my bill

Well, I stand accused of being gone
or not – comin’ home till dawn
stealin’ precious moments from your happiness
when you’re all alone
well – I do what I have to do
an’ if that’s not just alright with you
then charge it to my Visa card
an’ add it to my bill

I stay out late ‘cause god knows why
an’ I can’t explain – or even try
or how we both got into such a mess
I can’t deny
it, an’ I don’t think I’m gonna change my ways
an’ for the record, you know I never strayed
but, if that’s your explanation,
you can add it to my bill

I just adore
your beautiful brown eyes,
your way of makin’ love an’ raisin’ hell
but it’s just as well
an’ even so I never told you lies
but if you gotta go then fare thee well
call yourself an Uber an’ just
put it on my bill

five hour pizza

Posted on by
Reply

the ev’ning flurries, first, before the storm
did snow all night and so the day began
with gentle, juicy flakes of fluffy form
so shovel’d as we went – as if by plan
and daring out just once upon the roads
this Sunday situation seemed so eerie
the Super Bowl, indeed, the show of shows
‘twould make a mess of things ‘twas our new theory
by granting extra time to make the trek
we’d finish off our football grub by halftime
but our consignment in the snowy street got stuck
we had to trudge through knee-deep snow at nighttime
alas, at last, we made it home for dinner
tho’ cold, in time to witness the game winner

An Elegy for the Ampersand

Posted on by
1

No boarded play, however grand
contains within those scrambled hands
behold, the lowly ampersand

No seriously rightful due
akin, alas, to double-u
are Bob & Hugh or me & you

The case for “and per se and” lies
within the work of ancient scribes,
is utterance; and there it dies

The double-u however, though,
is used in terms like woo and woe
and other witless words we know

Some hundred years ago was dissed
deposed from alphabet’s long list
the ampersand does not exist

Not So Curious The Snowbird

Posted on by
Reply

not so curious the snowbird
flying off to warmer climes
when harsher winter weather hits
to leave the ice and chill behind

so it seems a sound migration
something I might find appealing, this
to leave my frozen tundra
and that cold that I’ve been dealing with

and of course the warmer summer months
can be ablaze with scorching heat
and stifling humidity
the trip up north would spell relief

‘tis a wonder, chasing weather
so to be outside all day
it’s a luxury of modern times
it’s not your standard get away

so harken now to basal times
with geese and wrens and robins
remove thyself from winter’s frost
it’s freezing soon forgotten

Pelicans

Posted on by
Reply
I had never seen a pelican formation

I thought them solitary, each to each

but there they were – eleven birds

slowly wafting down the beach

A leisurely diagonal which angled back

against the shoreline, biding time

one would flap a single stroke

then each one, too, in successive line

and drift along to be wherever

they were going, gently flowing

seemingly so unaware of seashell seekers

splashing swimmers or what was going on below

A team of sorts with no concern

of all the goings on and such

attentive toward their own accord

but as toward us, well, not so much

The Sad Song of Karelia

Posted on by
1

The Winter War was brutal
and with carnage cold, pervasive
hardened further these
of Nordic blood and steely grit

Not pushed easily these Finns
no matter how coercive
seemed the Soviet machine
positioned to absorb this vast extent

With death and dying everywhere
of peevish neighbors now invasive
no time here for sadness as the
sense of urgency could not relent

These homicidal fields were littered
time and again so undeserved
the tens of thousands perished
cruel usurper, evil spirit

Alas, a bitter quid pro quo
its freedom proved persuasive
thus the isthmus lies; is
lost to further argument

The Decembrist Wives

Posted on by
Reply

These were not common, these camp followers
these devoted few women of those sparse survivors
sanctioned so to live or so as cold Sibir awaited
them and theirs to harshest toil and
they themselves impoverished aristocracy

among them none of those five hung – and three hanged twice –
for wanting just to see the end of serfdom’s slavery
made for them the hope of somehow being
in the farthest east Yakutsk or yet perhaps Nerchinsk

the rough and crude, abusive solitude
this callous rule, this cruel administration,
ruthless, tsarist exile could not cause to waver
yea, could not unhinge their fealty

these dedicated brides of brave but doomed men
tho’ sickness and starvation caused to perish those
who could not make it through the bitter winters
these were women of steadfastness, loyalty and ardor

local folk, admirers of the ones who would not swear,
assisted as these women swept their mud floor huts and wept
their husbands hushed and placed in chains in mines
the utter desolation kept at bay by dint of love’s hard labor

no, these were not common, these camp followers
these devoted few women of those sparse survivors
sanctioned so to live or so as cold Sibir awaited

It Happens Every Year

Posted on by
1

The misty drizzle
     darkened sky
with three days long
     of twilight dark
this misty drizzle
     damp and cold
December’s
     dismal weather
          and
then suddenly
     some flurries seem
to swirl and spin
     and seemingly on cue
these clouds have
     started snowing
sending fluffy white
     precipitation hither
          and
before too long
     a blanket forms
this fluffy white
     befalls and now
forever be so frigid
     bringing frost
and frozen misty drizzle
     bringing winter.

 

a travelled road #1

Posted on by
Reply

way down the road
it goes way down
an’ you can see for
just about forever
so far down
the road
if you can make it
that far down

up the road a piece
the road goes on
an’ on until you feel
you may be flyin’
up the road a spell
until
you feel the wheels
are flyin’ off

just around the bend
the road goes everywhere
an’ anywhere the road
can go – it does
it goes around
the road
if you can be there
where it goes

and such is life
that goes wherever
goes to where the road
will go
an’ down an’ up an’
all around
enjoy the ride there’s
lots to see and do

A Travelled Road #2

Posted on by
Reply

Where does the road end?
I don’t know – Does
knowing where it leads
explain
just how it stops?
And can just anyone roam
on any one road?

To start down one
road mean it must
be followed or
can one road be
diverted from?
Is this a road to nowhere or
to endless possibilities?

And does the road
itself
take turns to
alter its direction?
Are the choices
purely ours or
are they made for each of us?

Is this a road less
travelled, too,
or mainstream,
well maintained,
and high-speed honed
for fast track
travel?

Moving down the road
to where it may
or may not end
is what we do,
to effortless oblivion
or maybe something
special.

Oh, where does it end?

Love’s Prison

Posted on by
1

It’s a disgraceful place
where we must go
It occupies no space
but in the mind
will steal our days
and weeks and years

All talk of love
is vague
It seldom mentions
what becomes of those
who break the rules
Yet once dispatched
to Love’s Prison
redemption is elusive

Some will stay
forever
locked inside
this fervid jail
never knowing what
or why it hurts
to live in such a place

Some are granted
brief reprieve
repeat offenders mostly
for a moment granted
amnesty but soon
are back to
Love’s Prison

Some are rehabilitated
careful with their
ardor
careful then
to not repeat
the anguish
gone before

And yes, of course,
those fortunate few
have never dared
to step inside
fearful of the misery
afraid that they
might break the rules
and find themselves
inside Love’s Prison

The latter is the
woeful group
however
never having loved
another
never knowing joy
for fear of
love’s dark side

And so be mindful
fill your days
and weeks and years
with true love
mind the rules
and stay away
from Love’s Prison

When Daddy is a Gunslinger

Posted on by
3

he says he has no father
you know that’s not the case
his dad is not at home
and you can see it in his face

his papa only comes around
to bleed the fam’ly dry
then leaves again for them to mend
their wounds – the tears they cry

his daddy is a gunslinger
and violence is his calling
intimidation, confrontation,
bloodshed, guns, and brawling

how many men in prison
have young boys just like him?
who want to love their fathers
but the prospects seem so grim

and all those men who roam the streets
they ply a deadly trade
those boys who need a father
grow up weak but unafraid

his daddy is a gunslinger
he’s doomed to do the same
or break the chain that’s preordained
don’t become what dad became

when he says he has no father
and you know that’s not the case
don’t blame the boy for anger
or the anguish he must face

his papa only comes around
to teach him how to cry
in a social class of broken glass
where kids do not ask why

when daddy is a gunslinger
when momma’s all alone
give this young man what love you can
try and treat him as your own