Jury Duty

The flag pole stands
in the city park
amidst trees
longing for forests

surrounded by three story
brick buildings
out of a low budget
or a nineteen fifties
about the American Dream.

Out of the windows
of a dingy old
court room
potential jurors
waiting for their moment
to serve justice.

(Categories: )


Too little sleep
and too much
cold and damp
has left me felling

The car is acting up,
systems around the house
are not running
as smoothly
as should be
only adding
to the fatigue.

At church this morning
a baby cried
She had just eaten
and probably needed to burp.

The mother rocked her
back and forth
patting her back
hoping to quiet her
though I doubt anyone
in the congregation minded.

I remembered
trying to comfort my daughters,
their heads on my shoulder
just above my heart,
swaying back and forth.

I found myself swaying
as we prayed
for the victims of shootings,
of floods,
of cancer,
of loneliness,
holding these people in my heart,

(Categories: )


The fluffy small clouds
floated blissfully
in the crisp clear
autumn sky
as small birds
in the breezes.

“Who could not praise God
on a day like this?”
I thought to myself
as I approached
the cemetery
where a young mother
over her son’s
But it wasn’t my son
or my fault.

Nearby, the birds sang joyfully
as they searched for food.

“I’m just living my life
as best I can”,
I thought to myself
as I pondered suffering.
“I don’t add to it,
do I?”

Sure, I’ve squabbled with friends,
causing them distress,
but not enough
to ruin a beautiful day?

I’ve benefited
from the circumstances of my birth.
Not deliberately, not consciously,
but certainly not enough
to contribute
to the death
of a young black man?

I’ve sought to send forth
tiny ripples of hope
but have I sent forth,
greater ripples of hurt?

I ponder these things
on The Day of Atonement
and cry out
“Forgive me”

A little bird looks up at me
quizzically chirps
and now the bird is silent too.

Notes: I wrote this on Yom Kippur, 2015 as I contemplated my own unexplored faults. The "tiny ripples of hope" come from Robert Kennedy's great Ripple of Hope speech. "and now the bird is silent too" comes from the poem "Little Unwritten Book" by Charles Simic by way of a writers prompt where I was challenged to use that line (or a couple others) as the last line of a poem.

Poetry Day

This morning, I went to a poetry group in Wallingford. I shared my poem, Less Quiet Desperation. Before, and for that matter, afterwards, I spent some time cleaning up my poems on this website. I set up a Drupal Book, Poetry Collection 1 where I started to organize some of my poems. Over the coming days, I hope to further organize my poems, as well as work on certain revisions.

As I organized the website, I did a little checking of Google Analytics as well as checking references to me in Google search. I discovered that someone has been taking readings of poems I did for Librivox many years ago, and putting them up on Youtube. The LIbrivox recordings also showed up on Goodreads

(Categories: )


This section is for poems about life, society, and politics. It is about how we interact with one another and view ourselves. Like with the nature section, some poems are about society and other parts of life, like faith or family. Such poems are generally put in those other sections.

(Categories: )
Syndicate content