Chicken Soup Press, Inc.



Poetry For Your Enjoyment

All poetry is copyrighted.


From Inland Wind

Pelicans' Flight


One morn, I heard the beating of each wing

and thought of geese, for that is all I knew.

Against the azure of the sky they flew

slow to appear and slowly vanishing.


To soar such flight, in joyfulness I'd sing

catching the surging wind drafts as they blew.

in flight above the sea, my rendez-vous

with ocean and with sky, abandoning


all thoughts of earth, unchained and free to fly

with or against the wind, it matters not.

How could an earthbound mortal such as I

claim kinship with such sweet compatriot? 

My own heart beats within each feathered breast

my winged soul shall never let me rest.


From Darkness


The sand and the beach

the shells and the stars

the salt-spray, the sharp-grassed dunes

are my memories


tucked away in the recesses

of my mind

to draw upon whenever I need.


In the sludge of winter,

the freeze, the ice,

the wind and snow.

From darkness shall I

take my heart, and steep it

in the flavor of this summer.


From Roses & Thorns

Mr. Darcy, on Observing Elizabeth Bennet


Well, they are fine eyes, fine indeed, I say,

full of fire and shining in the glow

of embers smouldering at the close of day,

I shall remember long, and this I know


fine eyes shall haunt me all my momehts now,

that haughty look, and mouth set firm and straight.

And to her curtsey, make my sweeping bow

to leave at once and close the garden gate.


Should I but see her one more time, I pledge

to take her in my arms and end this feud.

She's brought me to the rim, the very edge

of wild madness and desire, my mood

has changed from lofty pride and prejudice

to teeter at the brink, love's precipice.



Yes, Thank You, Mary


Miss Mary longs to give advice,

and such is her intention.

At each and every chance she gets

she offers condescension.


To stem the tide of malice,

says Mary with an air,

with sisterly devotion

we must alway take great care.


A loss of any virtue

is simply irretrievable.

And sister Lydia's disgrace

is surely unbelievable.


We cannot be too guarded

against the other sex,

the world is full of scoundrels

and often does perplex


those who are too innocent.

It certainly is scary,

we need to pour into each other's...

Indeed, yes, thank you, Mary!


At Schindler's Grave


Rock on rock, an icon piled high

payment not of gold, but red as blood

an endless flow of homage, see the flood

of people in their silence passing by.


White radiant sun, its brilliance does belie

the utter blackness of men's souls, where good

is cast upon the waters, thick with mud

by acts of purest evil, and the cry


of those who died, an echo on the wind

an echo down the endless, empty years;

a pain so deep we cannot comprehend

such savagery to which our eyes were blind.

Memory stirs the cauldron of our fears;

lest we forget, the stones heaped end on end.



What years are left to me I do not know

the minutes of my life, the seconds pass

I try to slow them down but oh, alas!

They glide, relentless, in an endless flow.


So move the days and months, which never slow

the subtle trickle of my years through glass

the thud of every heartbeat, to surpass

even the grains of sand a wind may blow.


What magic potion might a conjurer use

to cast a spell upon the waning years?

Perhaps a wand which, with its mystic ruse

might wave, and turn aside our age-old fears.

Sweep back the seas against all natural law

bringing us, newly-birthed, to virgin shore.



Let me write your life

as an artist paints a portrait,

using words of fire,

colors from the pallet

of my heart.

Shall I choose to work with oil,

selecting boldly what mirrors

the brilliance of a rainbow -

splashes of red, purple and gold

vibrant and alive

dynamic and swirling?

Or are you more suited

to the muted tones of watercolor,

soft gentle hues

producing harmony of design -

subtle, flowing

tranquil to the eyes?

Bold or muted?

Oil or watercolor?

Perhaps you are a blend of both.

Therefore, shall I temper

my fiery script

with softness and love.


Weight Loss

The greatest thing you ever did

was to like me

when I was often unlikeable.

Too many people turn away

from unpleasant and annoying


I shone in your liking

shedding some nuisance

along the way

like pounds of fat.

People say I am thinner now.

What do you think?


Ulysses Re-Born

For what is there beyond the farthest reach

of farthest star, when we can see no more?

When we must stand upon a silent beach

an edge of time and space, a lonely shore?


When there are no more oceans left to sail,

no depths to sound, no universe to sing

when we've explored it all, to what avail?

Our hearts will hunger still for wandering.


So did Ulysses long ago proclaim

that man must never yield but ever strive

to set the stars to burning with his flame,

to ride the winds of chance and so survive.

Thus, like Ulysses on a Grecian throne,

we set our sights on galaxies unknown.


 Cleopatra Revisited

Mindful, ever mindful how she looks

coloring her hair, once a month at least.

She conjures images of heroines from books

and dreams old myths, the ritual wedding feast.


Guinevere she might have been. Perhaps

Diana bathing naked in a stream,

or Cleopatra, weaving countless traps

to snare her Antony in willful scheme.


But each deceit, like layers of a cloth

unravels to reveal the hidden truth.

Burning the mirror as flame burns a moth

the incandescent fire of her youth.

It matters not. She stares and with faint smile

remembers ancient Egypt and the Nile.



You watched my face and always knew my mind 

my heart an open book that you could read.

Clearly printed there for  you to find

all the desperate pages of my need.


 You read my soul, but I read yours as well,

both avid readers, you and I perused

the phrases of our hearts, so parallel

decoding friendship, rich with love infused.


And on the preface of my heart, you wrote

inscriptions of sweet joy which I could hold

re-reading through the lonely years each quote

to keep me warm against the bitter cold.

Your words inscribed upon my soul forever

this legacy of love, your heart's endeavor.