In Any Language

In any language what we never say is always the same
The failure to tell someone how you feel about them
Or the inability to say job well done when it is deserved
Is the same whether you are right there or a thousand miles away

The most powerful language on the planet is not English
In fact the most powerful language is not even spoken
That language is a smile followed closely by tears
Neither says a word but both speak volumes

Unless you are alone a smile and a tear get the same results
The attention of whoever is near you at the time
No one can resist a smile or a tear because they both contain
Our entire existence wrapped up in no words at all

Happiness and sadness or good and bad
Heaven and hell or love and hate
What we never say is the same
And it is always the same in any language

the power of the pen

the power of a letter
not an email or text
has magic all unto itself

unlike and email or
a text which seems
to be in some sort of
suspended automation

the power of the pen
is tactile and timeless
and honors the writer
and the recipient

tweets and texts
and emails are
created and deleted
in an instant

while a letter
involves a lifetime
of learning to
commit to the
power of the pen

Speechless

the thought
of you
leaves me
speechless
and takes my
breath away
everytime i
see you
coming i
fumble for
words to say
desire drives
me crazy as i
see you walk
this way
i long to
say how
i feel
maybe it
will be
today

secretely
i stalk you
and hide
as you
walk by
hoping that
someday
it will
just be you
and i
and then
you turn
and speak
and i see
desire in
your eyes

and once
again i am
speechless
and let
the chance
go by
but in my
head i
know each
and every
day i
pray a
little
speechless
will finally
go away

A Hard Look

a hard look
will tell
you
what the
mirror
will not

what family
and friends
are afraid to say

for fear
their honesty
will drive
you away

a hard look
will tell
you
that time is
the enemy to
all

and time
wasted
is the
friend to
none

you see
the person
you have
always been

but time
sees wrinkles
and lines


and the
hard look
will tell
you despite
the lines

getting older
is natural
and you
you will
be fine

Each Day

We all know it is safe to say
We die a little more every day
The things we know that are really true
Are the things that we really have to do

Show the people you love so well
What they mean to you or time will tell
The story of the time you lost
And that you paid the tragic cost

Of waiting until it was much to late
To let your love reverberate
In a way that leaves no doubt
That you know what love is all about

The Last Poet

The last poet sat alone with pen in hand as he cried
To bring beauty into this world some way is all he really tried
Despite his efforts and daily dreams to make the world seem fair
The last poet realized his efforts got him nowhere

Despite the words and images that flowed each day from his pen
He realized no matter how hard he tried men would still sin against men
Those who robbed and killed and stole and lied were things he saw each day
The poet wrote about it all and cried then threw his pen away

And from his seat in the village square where he once wrote it all
The last poet stood and walked away as he watched all around him fall
The world has changed so much he thought maybe now it is too late
To tell mankind this downward slide does not have to be our fate

The Oldest Son

The oldest son is the only one
Who carries the weight of the world
On his shoulders

Every hope from his mother
And dream of his father
Every fight for his sister
And problem of his brother

Yet no one bothers to ask his thoughts
Or goals for life so it seems
The oldest son never gets to live his dreams

To everyone he is born to be king
Inherit the land and all that is seen
But inside he longs to sing and play
And he wishes life would turn out that way

So put aside your thoughts for him
Allow him to follow his every whim
And be who he is meant to be

As Strong As I Have To Be

Muscles and memories fade with the years
Those things we can all plainly see
But it is only with the passing of time
We are as strong as we have to be

Each day should bring wisdom
Love and respect and a place for you and me
Now you are gone and I am someone
Who is as strong as I have to be

I wake up alone leaving you in my dreams
As my tears crack my mirrored face
If life is worth living then why does it seem
That my life has been such a waste

some deserve to die

a sad reality of this life
is some people deserve to die
for crimes committed against
those who cannot defend themselves

innocent children are victimized
by cowardly adults or even worse
other children who decide to
take advantage of someone who is different

the golden rule
is just that a golden rule and not
the silver exception or the bronze guideline
and should be interpreted as such

A Gift For My Mother

The perfect gift for a mother is love
Not diamonds or pearls or money
With powers granted from God above
She makes cloudy days sunny

For each birthday filled with homemade cards
You smiled and cherished each treasure
And though later years brought different rewards
Your love and support is forever

As years go by I value the time
And all the lessons you taught
I realize now the perfect gift for you
Is something that cannot be bought

Anniversary

To my beautiful wife Joan Elizabeth Mitchell-Nelson.
Today we celebrate our 30th anniversary.
Rest in Peace with God in heaven my Angel

Thirty years ago today you agreed to be my wife
A day that forever changed my life
Your commitment to me was to give me your love
Now I feel it each day from heaven above
As a husband I can honestly say that I was bad
But yours was the best love I ever had
You stood by me above all else
And never doubted me when I doubted my self
Now for me this day is filled with tears
No one to share with my daily fears
We talked about how we would someday
Sit in the Florida sun and watch our grandchildren play
Now I just go through the world alone
No grandchildren and our son is grown
I had the greatest gift in life
Thirty years ago today you agreed to be my wife

wins and loses

winners are neither born or made
despite the lies they tell
a millionaire is a poor man with money
while the homeless are rich
where it matters most
having it all
only matters if you
give it  all away
over and over again
once it is gone if it
never comes back
it means it never was

Father's Day?

While most men celebrate this day
Not me since my wife passed away
And my sons are now both grown and gone
No reason for me to carry on

About a holiday that only brings
Back bad memories of shattered dreams
And gifts worth their weight in gold
That or either lost or too damn old

My home is empty like my heart
And now it is too late to start
Another life with somebody new
Or a second chance at love so true

No reason to look for a card
Or grandchildren playing in the yard
Or expect to hear someone say
Have a Happy Father's Day

brothers

one brother grows up physical
the other rather quizzical
still every one could see
both different branches
from the family tree

their parents did not mind at all
in fact they rather had a ball
watching the way the boys did grow
each shining in the light
the other did not know

though one was really rather small
the other one grew straight and tall
and no one would dare say
how the same seeds
could sprout in different ways

each loved what the other did
and never really tried to give
a reason they were not the same
it never did seem strange
one good at books the other at games

listen

words
worth
hearing
do not
come
easy but
when they
do
listen
and hold
on to
each one
as if
what was
said
was
your
only
reason
for
living

learn
to not
only to
listen to
what is
worth
hearing
but
learn to
understand
what is
meant by
each word
and
phrase

nurture
what you
hear
as if
words
worth
hearing
were a
garden
filled with
the most
beautiful
flowers

and then
and only
then
after each
flower
petal
stem and
thorn has
been
examined
should you
speak

the train

that magic time
when late at night
falls asleep
and early morning
starts to stir
a train rumbles
through every town
everywhere at once
singing the same song

telling you it is
time to move on
telling you
that whatever has
you trapped in this town
is not as important
as listening to
the whistle and
climbing aboard

like the sun
in the morning
and the moon
at night
the sound is
constant
until you finally
hear that whistle
calling you

and then you know
not only is it time to
ride
you know the destination
and the journey
are only important
when you realize
that it is time to go

On The Subway From Newark To New York

an exotic and mysterious
asian woman sat across from me
on the subway heading
from Newark to New York
me a tourist on my way to see
the Thanksgiving Day Parade
and across from me was the most beautiful
exotic woman I had ever seen in my life
her beauty was stunning
as I sat hoping my stolen glances
would at least get a smile from her
surely the beauty of the
churches and temples in her homeland
all pale when compared to her
my mind wandered
to who she was
what she did and who she did it with
all the time wishing it was me
though rude to stare
I could not turn away
the shape of her face
her jet black hair
I was lost in the
graceful elegance of her neck
and the perfection that she was
both of us clad in
black leather
hers delicate and light like her
mine heavy and dark like me
she held me in a spell
that was hypnotic and mystical
and as she got up to leave
I hoped she would invite me
to join her and as she left
a part of my heart left
with her and will forever
remain on that subway
from Newark to New York
or was it Jersey City?

The Lady New Orleans

never try to figure
out the mystery
that is the lady who
is New Orleans

she seduces you
into thinking
she can be yours
when she knows you will
never have her

she watches as you
come calling
come crawling
inviting you always
while rejecting you
every day and in every way

some actually
think they have a chance at a
woman so elusive that when
she takes off her
mask she still
remains hidden

and as you yearn for her
pine for her
long for her and
whine for her

she just looks away
because she knows
you will be back
tomorrow

finding a friend

it is hard
to define friendship
because it changes
from day to day
a friend you
meet tomorrow
may not start
that way
a kind word
to greet you
that somehow
makes your day
could be
the sign that
someone
new has come
your way
so each day
we must be ready
and always
look within
because you
never know
when you
may find
a friend

what i am

what i am
is many things
but not as many
as what i am not
maybe that is why
so many people live
a life that is empty
they are too busy
trying to be what
they are not and fail
to recognize what
they truly are
a painter decides
he wants to sing
rather than spending
his time making
beautiful things
and an actor
refuses to take
the stage to prove
he is more than
reading words
on a page
and i refuse
to record it all
despite that being
my only true call
as life slips away
now i see
very few ever
become what
they were meant
to be

This poem was written on Saturday, June 7, 2012 but I fell asleep before posting it following a loss my team suffered earlier that day!

The Contest

Two teams enter the playing field
With the goal to come out on top
One team leaves as the winner
And the other team does not

Neither team knows the other well
Something that matters little today
For as near as everyone could tell
Both teams came ready to play

The side you root for is pretty clear
Your players stand straight and tall
The opposition is also easy to see
For their team is petty and small

The game starts out as you had hoped
Your team is first to score
But the contest is far from over when
Your team gets knocked on the floor

Fight as they might your team does not win
Inside you know this is not right
How can that team of bad guys win
But they were the better team this night

As the tears flow and the players hug
Everyone says a final good bye
For now the contest has come to an end
Despite your team giving it their best try

A year from now this game will be played
Maybe with the same teams on both sides
Until that time there will be one whole year
For your team to nurse wounded pride

Details

letting fate decide
is very easy to do
when planning your
own outcome
is all up to you

leaving it all to chance
to see who is on top
is better left to details

Two Sons

Two sons
A world apart
Bound by name
Not by heart
Each sees the other
As a threat
Neither has seen
The other yet
They talk and know
One day they will meet
Until that time
They barely speak
The older thinks
The younger is to blame
For his missing father
And his shared name
The younger feels
That he is second best
Never knowing that
Love is not a test
And the father waits
Until the day
When his two sons
Go far away

The Future

close your eyes and think about the future
what do you see
a sleek world of ultramodern buildings
or do you see land that was destroyed
after a disaster from something from within

the decline of man

each in turn to do their best
but none has yet to pass the test
for life is just a race to see
if the winner is you or me

many seem to have it all
but still refuse to heed the call
can anyone ever say
they did their best every day

but even this simple life of mine
will lose the race against father time
as we all grow older in every way
the decline of man is here to stay

the rope

pulled tight or hanging loose
the results are the same
long before you realize
you never know if you have enough
are you at the end of it
did you do yourself in with it
can you climb it
tie it or knot it or jump it
can you swing from it
is it rough or smooth
worn or frayed
tied in a bundle on the end of a stick
or used to walk across
the balancing act that
has become your life

When The Game Is Over

You will know when the game is over
When you have no more chances at bat
There is no time left on the clock
Your horse has finished last
You have been knocked flat on the canvas
And you have to decide to run or rumble
Will you play the game again or give up
The answers are always around us
The challenge is finding the right question
And deciding that the game is not over
Until you say it is over

The Visit

while time erodes us all away
there will come a time someday
when a loved one must make a hospital stay
and for many that visit will come today

despite the brave front they put on
we know their time will soon be gone
loved ones gather and stay too long
to ease the guilt of what they did wrong

the loved one wants us all to come near
we gather for the last words we hear
it is the ravages of time we fear
that is taking the life of who we hold dear

Something New

Each day as we grow older
One thing seems to be true
The world is so much colder
And we rarely see something new

In a world once filled with wonder
For the old there is not much surprise
We mostly see mistakes and see blunders
Not looking through childlike eyes

New gadgets do not hold our interest
And technology for us has no appeal
The things that should be the simplest
Now have become a really big deal

But the young find these things amazing
Choosing to jump on each modern fad
While the old insist on not changing
Missing out on those things makes us glad

That way we old stay empowered
Always being able to say
To the latest fad of the hour
We did not need that in my day