Content, Failure


Author’s note: I hate writing these poems. They’re like eulogies for dead relationships, and each one is a monument to failure.

How does one mourn the death of a dream?
And abandon the hopes of a future unseen?

How did this happen? How did it die?
What frightful event caused its demise?

It happened slowly with a single, swift stroke
A ludicrous question, which was really a joke.

Plans made in earnest, with highest ambition
Now futile and useless, like wet ammunition.

I ask foolish questions, for the “how” and the “why”
When I hear the same answers ‘neath fall’s sullen skies.

“You arrived here too late, you weren’t quite the One,”
“Another displaced you; don’t fret, you’ll find someone.”

Years have gone by, since I last found myself here
Since I lowered my guard, and let one soul draw near.

“Keep out – Condemned”, the dusty sign reads,
Its message half-covered by overgrown weeds.

I long ago left this sorrowful site,
And vowed to ne’er return, try as I might.

But again I sit here, with nothing to show
As hope bleeds out crimson, and covers the snow.

Purging the pain from this center mass hole,
I slowly rebuild what remains of my soul.

Gone are the mem’ries of dark laughing eyes,
The kilowatt smile, framed in the thrill of surprise.

Soft, wavy hair delightfully teased
Blown ever so gently by each passing breeze.

Athletically built, yet smallish in frame
Built for embraces, just never mine again.

As I stand up to leave, and for the last time I pray
I can’t help but wonder if it will happen that way.


A Mother’s Love

A mother’s love is the closest thing to God’s love that most will ever experience. Distance cannot quench it, time will not diminish it, and words cannot adequately describe it. It burns intensely, transcends geography, and loves unconditionally. It hopes for the best while preparing for the worst. It is versatile, handling broken bones, broken promises, and broken hearts.


The Battle House

I pass small town wonders lit by old neon lights
Dark storefront facades which age overnight
Tread softly through the Battle House halls
Where orders were bellowed and trumpets did call
To summon the soldiers to war against brothers
And rob them of life, and make widows of mothers.



The river flows without remorse
Sunlight mirrored in its train
And the waters run around the rocks
Headed nowhere slowly, with naught to gain.

Many voices speak without a sound
In the silence of December
The years go by and life moves on
Leaving tokens of the past to remember.


Almost Perfect

There was a song once,
An anthem dear
Of love and faith,
And hope, and fear.

It told of myst’ries
Hidden deep within,
‘Twixt heart and soul
And what might have been.

And what could be
And what could not
Time’s dread march
On love was fought.

And in the mind’s eye
Where dreams are made
And a thousand futures’ endings played,
Time stood still for “why” and “when”
Ne’er to be asked of me again.


A Veteran’s Day Remembrance

American flag flying near a fire escape in New York City

A Veteran’s Day Remembrance

Our sons, our brothers:
Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines,

And all who fought for faith and country
Who rest ‘neath fields of green

We honor you this day too meanly;
How often we forget,
The struggle, toil, and tears of those
Who gave without regret.

So let us now with solemn vigor
Stand with those who remain,
Aid all who heard the call of duty
And answered with their names.


“No greater love hath a man than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.”
– John 15:13


Sunny Side Down

The Painted Sky

Fight your way through darkest night
Sacred flight from all your cares.
Go home to warmth and skies of blue
Where sunsets fade, and glory flares.

Ode to Fall
When the breath that catches in my throat
Finds shelter in the chilling wind,
And summer’s blazing fury yields
To heralds of the fall,
Mem’ries old of friends and kin
Birthed anew I remember,
Then they disappear in shades of grey
‘Ere the sylvan whispers of September.

The Way of Things
The days grow longer with deeper shadows
Casting shade ‘neath trees with fickle leaves
Which soon will sunder all bonds of friendship
To fall and rest in earth’s embrace.