Three Kisses

Three kisses occurred over time,
Each one came to mean different kind,
Lips touched, opened and closed,
Three kisses told a story of love.

First kiss met with care,
Came to know and discover,
An eye meets an eye,
A key to the soul.

Lips met, tender touch,
Warmth of breath,
Gentle bodies,
Slow encounter that met with a timid response.

Second kiss came with lust,
For a taste of the lips,
That exudes love desire,
With a secret kept bliss.

Flavor known and forgotten,
Concealed with lost thoughts,
Saved as treasured belongings,
Life that was, and is not.

Third kiss came for love,
That was there and still is,
Feelings strong and eternal,
Love that nourishes and feeds,

Love heart deep, love that muses,
Love eternally shines,
Love so true, love that’s honest,
Love forever divine.

Three kisses have waited a long time to happen,
Through winter of distance, of silence, of hope,
Three kisses woke trust and true mutual compassion,
And love that continues to guide and support.


September 22, 2010


From a frozen ground it sprouted,
Sepals green with petals red,
Tiny, seeking rays of sunshine,
Put its leaves all out to spread.

Heavy hands came down and dirty,
Pounding teeny flower down,
Muddy boots and filthy fingers,
Grabbing at the pistil firm.

Rain a scarce and love fallacious,
Growth a challenge each long day,
No defense but quiet moonlight,
Broken stems lay many, slay.

Seasons pass and fresh springs follow,
Flower now stands strong and tall,
Tiny buds rise from the wet ground,
Carpet meadow bountiful.

Bees and bugs come springtime, often,
Spreading pollen with their feet,
Colors change from red to yellow,
Days and rays of sunshine fleet.

Blooms to soil and bones to ashes,
Life grows cycles year to end,
Strength dispersed in muted portions,
Human, nature, clutch, preserve.


February 9, 2018

Into the Valley

High over lavender clouds,
A white albatross soars,
Stirring its way,
Toward a distant nest,
Beyond the seas.

Strong thermals rise under its wings,
Tailwinds thrust it onward,
Distant stars guides its way,
Gentle flaps of feathers,
Tracking seventy-one degrees.

Sudden pain,
Burning in its belly,
The large bird breaks course,
Seeking port and recluse,
Before the agony overwhelms,
Its flight.

Head down,
Penetrating the thick darkness,
White albatross seeks safe harbor,
Among the white crests,
Powdering the dark horizon below.

Ancient voices sedates its fears,
Inject calm and direction into the mayhem,
A land patch appears, distant,
But within reach,
For safe landing,
And recovery.

Flocks of birds fly high overhead,
Migrating between far corners of the earth,
White albatross rest alone,
In a day it will soar again,
Resurrected back into the heavens,
Routing home.


January 19, 2018

Rusting Acres

This town had seen better days,Jenner’s Park, Loup City, Nebraska, 1900-1942
In years before farming life declined,
Before big cities drew its next generations,
Before people had careers and life to self-fulfill.

Long balconies wrap around old Victorian houses,
That had not been a home for anyone,
For quite a long time,
Large trees cast shadows over quiet streets,
Leading to a spacious town center,
Dark stone city hall looms large in the middle,
Like a giant spider resting in its web.

Time paces by here by the season,
Minutes, hours, days, melt together into the whisper of the wind in the trees,
City Park greens open at the edge of town,
Idle playground fades slowly into rust.

Empty cages carve the rocky hillside,
Remanence of a small zoo for kids delight,
Here a roaring lion once laid jaded,
Hallucinating the small grass before him for a lost savannah.

Stand still in the wild grass,
With eyes closed, listen,
For the metallic squeal of swings and merry-go-round,
The occasional roar of the tiger,
The call of a parent,
And the laughter of children,
Who left their childhood in this town,
That will forever rest among the yellowing cornfields,
On the rough and unforgiving earth.


September 27, 2017


Photo by F.T.

“?מָה לַךְ כִּי נָפְלוּ פָּנַיִךְ”
,רָכְנָה הֵשִׁיטָה אֶל הָאַיָּלָה
,רַכָּה בַּשָּׁנִים
,מִסְתּוֹפֶפֶת בְּצִלָּה
.וְעֵינֶיהָ לַחוֹת

,גָּדוֹל הוּא הַשָּׂדֶה”
,וְיָרֹק אַף הָאָחוּ
,אַךְ אֵין לִי פִּנָּה בָּם
“.לַזוֹר מַכְאוֹבַי

“רָבוּ לֵךְ דְּמָעוֹת”
.שָׂחָה הָאֶבֶן לְמָרְגֶלוֹתֶיה
?הַפְּגוּעָה אֶת? פְּצוּעָהּ”
“?הָרוֹדֵף אוֹתָךְ רַע

,אֵין טוֹרֵף אַחֲרֵי”
,לֹא הֻכֵּיתִי בַּדֶּרֶךְ
,אַךְ הוֹלֵם הוּא לִבִּי
“.וְדוֹאֵב עַד מְאֹד

“?מָה קָרָה יָקִּירָה”
.קוֹנְנוּ צִפּוֹרִים
אֵיךְ קַבְּלִי יוֹם בָּהִיר”
“?בְּפָנִים נְפוּלוֹת

,נָס עָנָן, הַס הָרוּחַ
,וּפָנְתָה לָהּ הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ
,הִנְהֲנָה הָאַיָּלָה
.וְקָרְנֶיה רַכּוֹת

,רָב כֹּחִי בְּמֹתְּנַי”
,לֹא פָּגַע בִּי כָּל רַע
,אַךְ נַפְשִׁי מִשְׁתּוֹקֶקֶת
“.לִמְחוֹזוֹת רְחוֹקִים

,בְּתּוּלִית הִיא דַּרְכִּי”
,פְּסִיעוֹתַי בָּהּ סְפוּרוֹת
,לֹא אֵדַע אֵי אֶצְעַד
“.בַּמַּסָּע הָאָרֹךְ

,הָאֶפְנֶה אֶל הָהָר”
,אוֹ שֶׁמָּא אֶל הָעֵמֶק
“?וְאוּלַי אֶעֱקֹב צִפּוֹרִים בִּמְעוּפָן

,לֹא צְבִיָּה לֹא אַרְיֵה”
,יָפְרִיעוּנִי בָּהֶלֶך
,אֶת הָשָעָל יָאִירוּ
“.הַחַמָּה, כּוֹכָבִים

,לֹא בָּרוּר הַכִּוּוּן”
,אַךְ נַהִיר הוּא הַיַּעַד
,אֳצַיְירוֹ בַּמִּכְחוֹל
“.וְאֶדְרֹשׁ לוֹ בְּשִּׁיר

,שְׂאוּ בְּרָכָה צִפּוֹרִים”
,אַבְנֵי שֶׁעַל, עֲצֵי הוֹד
,תֶלַווּנִי הֵיְי הָלְאָה
“.בְּיָּמִים כָּבִּירִים

,כֹּה דָּרְשָׁה אַיָּלָה
,וְנָשְׂאָה אֶת עֵינֶיהָ
,טוֹףְ רַגְלֶיהָ בָּקַרְקַע
.וְנָפְשָׁה בַּמְּרוֹמִים


September 6, 2017

עלי עד

,הַסֵּפֶר פּוֹרֵש עָלָיו
,וּמִלִּים מְלֵאוֹת תֹּאַר וְרֹךְ
,פּוֹרְחוֹת מִבֵין הַדַּפִּים
,כְּמוֹ חַרְצִיּוֹת מְיֻבָּשׁוֹת
,שֶׁהֻדְּקוּ שָׁם
,לְמִשְמוֹרֶת עוֹלָם
.לִפְנֵי דּוֹר

,עָלֵי כּוֹתֶרֶת חִוְּרִים
,פּוֹנִים זֶה אֶל רֵעֵהוּ בְּמַבָּט וָתִיק
,זוֹכְרִים יָמִים שֶׁל שֶׁמֶשׁ וְאָבִיב
,לֵילוֹת מָטַר קָרִים
,וְתַאֲוַת נְעוּרִים בּוֹעֶרֶת
,שֶׁהָפְכָה אָבָק צָהֹב
.וּפָרְחָה לָהּ


Eternal Leaves

The book spreads its leaves,
And words full of adjective and tenderness,
Bloom from the pages,
Like dried chrysanthemums,
That were pressed there,
For eternal custody,
A generation ago.

Pale petals,
Turn to each other with a veteran gaze,
Remembering days of sun and spring,
Cold rainy nights,
And burning youthful passion,
That turned into yellow dust,
And disappeared.

June 14, 2017

Four Letter Words

For every deed I am known for,
I keep a secret one,
With every prideful feat,
I hide a shameful sin,
Per each triumphal goal,
I hide a glorious failed one,
For every happy laugh,
I muffle a crying wail.

For each close friend I have,
I keep a hateful foe,
For every time I loved,
A bloody fight is stored,
In every flower I pick,
A thorny thistle is hidden,
For all the days I lived,
An equal sum deducted.

Live, love, smile, laugh,
Frown, hate, cry, die,
Hug, push, kiss, slap,
Try, let, run, lie,
The more I try, the more I gain,
The more I do, the more I learn,
Love, hate, live, dead,
Are all four letter words.


March 8, 2017

Emergency Survival List

Gun, nine millimeters, clean and oiled,
With five loaded magazines,
Tucked in holster.

Baseball bat, regulation size,
Aluminum alloy,
In room corner, behind the door.

Large hunting knife, carbon steel,
Black-coated, fixed blade,
With mean serrated edges,
For best results.

Wooden stake, twelve inches long,
Lacquer coated, small chain,
In breast pocket, ready for action.

Running shoes, waterproofed,
Dark color, with no reflective strips,
Set to be laced.

Vampire sunscreen, SPF 9000,
Toothbrush with extra-long bristles,
Arm & Hammer toothpaste,
In a heavy-duty Ziploc bag.

Family portrait, names written on back,
With a love note, if possible,
Sealed in hard plastic,
And a note to self.


December 8, 2016

משלי חיים

,צַעַד צָעַד
,עָקַב בְּצַד אֲגֻודַּל
,פּוֹרְסוֹת הַמִּלִּים דֶּרֶךְ
.אֶל הָאוֹר

,נָתִיב חוֹרֵץ נָתִיב
,בָּאֲדָמָה הָרְווּיָה
,סִפּוּרִים וּמְשָׁלִים
.חוֹבְקֵי עוֹלָם

,טְווּיִים כְּרֶשֶׁת
,דּוֹרוֹת אֵין סְפוֹר פָּסְעוּ בָּם
,לֵידוֹת, שִׁמְּחָה וּמָוֶת
.מַפַּת חַיִּים

,מִי לוֹ וְיַבִּיט בָּהּ
,חָכְמַת חַיִּים טְמוּנָה
,מוֹרָה הִיא אֶת הַדֶּרֶךְ
.אֶל הַמָּחָר


The Literary Path

Step by step,
In slow pace,
The words lay a path,
Onto the light.

A path crisscrosses another,
In the saturated soil,
Stories and tales,
Around the world.

Woven as net,
Countless generations have walked down them,
Births, joy, and death,
A map of Life.

Who shall look at it,
Embedded wisdom lies,
Teaches the way,
Onto tomorrow.


December 1, 2016


,הַמְּשׁוֹרְרִים, דִּינָם לִנְדֹּד
,רוֹצְעִים אֶת הַתֵּבֵל בְּמַסְעוֹתֵיהֶם
,תָּרִים אַחַר מִלִּים
.אוֹתִיּוֹת וְאוֹתוֹת

,אִישׁ לְכִוּוּנוֹ הוֹלְכִים
,יֵשׁ מְהֵם בְּצַעַד קַל
,אָצִים הֵם וּמְחַפְּשִׂים
.אַחַר הַמּוּזָה הַנִּשְׂגֶּבֶת

,קוֹל הֶהָמוֹן בְּגַבָּם
,פְּנֵיהֶם אֶל הָאֹבֶךְ הַסָמִיךְ
,וּמִתּוֹכוֹ מְגָרֶה אוֹתָם וּמַזְמִין
.סוֹד עוֹלָמָם


The Road

Poets, their sentence is to wander,
Streaking the universe in their travels,
Searching for words,
Letters and ciphers.

Each person walks to his direction,
Some use a light step,
Rushing and looking,
For the elusive muse.

The crowd’s noise in their back,
Their faces in the thick haze,
From within it draws them and invites,
Their world secret.


November 15, 2016