Cook dinner
Nice bottle of wine
Cook for another person
Enjoy the meal and company and conversation
Finish the wine together
Then search for another bottle
Or whiskey
Beautiful is this night
Category Archives: Poetry
My Dear Angels
My Dear Angels
Low golden light
Roll in dark clouds
Clap in the night
My Dear Angels
No need to fight
Spurning all yet tried ports
Ship captain calls ahead
The wind must not be ignored
On to new horizons!
The stars are out tonight!
Guided by the Light
Through words spoken to the universe
The great expanse fastened to all souls
Through sea or storm
The wind must not be ignored
Thinking of my friends
The woods
Pour
Pour red wine
Pour red wine and I’ll be fine
Share some bread
Share some bread before we’re dead
Talk all night
Talk all night we’ll be alright
I want you to know
I want you to know I could never go
I’ll see you again some day
I haven’t seen my family in many years
held their hands or shared my fears
too long since I’ve laughed with my father
or placed a kiss on the cheek of my mother
this road is one to walk alone
leave my children to grow at home
my daughter, I’ll miss her wedding day
the joy of giving her away
every time they think of me
they’ll speak about the man I would have been
smile at secrets I would have known
cry when they feel alone
I wish the journey did not end this way
and trust I’ll see them again some day
canvas shoes
I’ve lost my old pair of shoes
with gum stuck on the sole from the street
in monte carlo
where those without wealth snap photos of those with
expensive cars and luxury yachts tied to buoys
and dust from san sebastian
walking from one tapa bar to another
dim light cover street nights
as waves from the bay rolled in
with tears on the side from the bike i used to ride
over the canals in amsterdam
i danced in those old shoes to banging drums
in kreuzberg berlin
i raced up the spanish steps and looked down
at the sea of umbrellas and listened to the sound of rain
bounce off the rooftops, steps and street performers
those shoe laces broken and frayed at the ends
walking up the steps of the sacre coeur
red wine stain on the canvas
sharing bottles overlooking the latin quarter and eiffel tower
those old canvas shoes
poet’s musing
in the beginning was the word
only the word will remain
the only pure creative form
that can live without adultery
wordsmiths and rhetoricians
forever the practise of only men and women
words cannot be replaced
storytellers cannot be replaced
poets cannot be replaced
only lost or forgotten
the art of storytelling
a poet’s verse
they are the most valuable commodities
eggs for breakfast
eggs for breakfast
two eggs two slices of toast buttered
start the day well
cup of coffee
be productive
be productive with time given to you
because the days are evil
and all time will leave you behind
and soon it will be dark

