GO LONG

A game of catch stretched

from yard to yard. 

The kids in the neighborhood,

all came to stand in line,

a chance to take part.

A football, and a Dad

as quarterback calling the shots.

The have and have nots

were all-star receivers.

Short to the trees.

Out near the bushes.

Long near the house next door.

The little guys made the trees.

Most went for the bushes.

I'd look to Dad and he'd wink.

That meant only one thing.

Don't let the ball hit the house.

It rarely ever did. Go long.

Walt

THE FALL OF ST. MIKE'S

The parish church in our neighborhood,
three generations of family worship,
in a brown brick abode. A grade school
occupied the first floor, through the doors
to a Catholic education. I knew the building
top to bottom. An altar boy with a run of
the sacristy. A student who had as much
of the classroom as he did the basement
"gymnasium". The backstage, the ancient
boiler room were all our sanctuary.
A fund-raising paper drive saw her sad
demise. In the wee hours, the furnace
broke the silence of night; an explosion.
Tinder set ablaze in a rapid conflagration.
The stage went first,the upper classrooms
followed. Devoured hungrily was the church
above. Sunday mass, Christenings and weddings,
funerals and communion became fond memories.
With morning's first light bearing witness, the
walls came crashing down. Mere feet away,
a long trailer full of discarded newsprint, unscathed.
St. Michael's came falling to earth.


Walt

ONE

One heart was freed
One soul was saved
One life unchained
One sentence waived
One died for me
One took my place
One sacrifice
One act of grace
One Holy God
One Trinity
One Perfect Lamb
One thankful me

Marie Elena

Photo by Keith Good

THAT'S MIKKI WITH A K

She wants to change the spelling of her name;
my clever little cherub with huge brown eyes.
Not her given name, her nickname: Miki.

"Mommy, may I use two k's?"

“Of course,” I tell my clever little cherub with huge brown eyes,
“You may use two k's, if that is what you'd like."

She must be wise beyond her years, I think to myself,
my clever little cherub with huge brown yes,

to already realize she may choose to use two K’s,
without risk of changing the pronunciation of her name.

The thought makes me smile with pride.

The next day, my clever little cherub with huge brown eyes
comes home with a paper.

In the top right corner is her printed name:

Mikkkkkkkki.

Marie Elena

A POET? ME?

Thank you, no.   I just dabble.
Thank you, no.   I’m not that good.
Thank you, no.   Really. Thank you.
Thank you, no.   But I wish…
Thank you, no.   I MUST write, but…
Thank you, no.   Just thankful to be here.
Thank you, no.   I’m not published.
Thank you, no.   It’s nothing, really.
Thank you, no.   You are so much better.
Thank you, no.   But, coming from you …
Thank you, yes?  Yes, perhaps…
Thank you, yes.  Yes, thank you.

Marie Elena

HAIKU

one who most needs me

makes my thoughts her dwelling place,

my dreams, her abode.

Marie Elena

FRIENDSHIP

Some climb to reach the pinnacle.
Some help others climb,
and they together reach the pinnacle.

Marie Elena

OUTLAW JOSIE WALES TWICE REMOVED

Marie and I, our connection is groovy,
we could be an Eastwood movie.
She is "Good", it's plain to see,
"The Bad and The Ugly"? That be me!

Walt

ACROSS THE LAKE, EERILY: A Hand of Friendship

On opposite shores
of a stretch of lake,
an Erie divide where
the lake effects hide.
From Maumee, Ohio,
her dark eyes search eastward
for the sound of mused
verses and rhymes.
And from Sloan, New York,
his search emanates,
a westward insemination
of idyllic thought,
ever wrought on the
strength of connection,
poetic perfection
an elusive prize,
but lost in the eyes
of beholders both varied,
the beauty that rests there
is prompted and harried.
The wonder he sees
in the heartfelt struggle
of a mother and wife,
rapt in poetic nuance and affluence.
And she awed and mystified
by a heart mired
in romantic remembrance
and comedic absurdity
written by a hand
as new to the fight
as her own nudged
poetry proclaims.
Two names, as far
as they can see
Walt and Marie,
plotting along
to bring the other
to their next best verse.
A joining of spirits by
two veritable strangers,
posing no danger
to the comfort their
sole influences provide.
The stretch of an extended
hand of friendship across
the waters of this Great Lake
returned in the guise
of a poetic handshake
and touching each others
muse unmistakably.

*** Written in October 2009 on Poetic Asides, the pre-cursor to this same titled blog.

Walt 

WAITING

The incessant pause,
pregnant or otherwise,
saps my resolve and my mind.
Thoughts half developed are
interrupted by the sound
of a repetitive loud speaker,
calling Doctor Proctor,
paging the head nurse,
alerting a Code Blue.
And you sit with patience
wearing paper thin for
some word, some clue,
that this vigil will be falsely in vain.
But as the hours slink by,
the flow of other families,
hoping, praying, united,
remains steady and drawn out.
Long into the night, your
angst has turned into
an exercise in futility.
Intensive Care Nightmare.
And still, you are waiting.

Walt

BATTEL ROYALLE

I battel this one every day.
This evil one wont’ go away.
He aims to trip me up, he does.
It’s seemingly for “just becuase.”
So call him “Typo,” if you will,
“Dyxlesia,” or “Lak of Skill.”
Whatevre name you give this one,
just know he will not be outdone,
and I will not give up this fhigt.
I’ll forge ahead to wright rite write!

Marie Elena

(I wondered what all the noise was, coming across the lake.  I see my friend over there has been busy, busy, busy!)

EACH OF US IS ONE

Start with yourself.
You're a woman; you're a man,
you don't quite understand,
but you know if it starts
anywhere, it starts with you.
You are one.

Someone comes along
and likes what you do; your style,
you can't help but smile,
because all you wanted was for
someone to take you seriously.
Both ones together; you become two.

The two of you have a plan,
a chance to spread the joy you feel,
and the feeling is real,
that when the next person joins your cause
you feel the load lessen.
Your small crowd is a company; you are three.

And so it goes, and so it goes.
You saw a chance and planted the seed.
Never assuming it was out of greed,
but out of a love for the world you believe in.
And you believed that if it started anywhere,
it started with you. You are one.

Each of us is one.

We are all one.

Walt

THE TWO OF US

ME is you,
and I am me.
Poets both
to a degree.
I am he,
and ME is she,
and to that
we both agree.
Every time
I would rhyme,
she would read me
every time.
When she would rhyme
it's my time
to read her rhyme
every time.
It's apparent,
plain to see,
I am me
and she is ME.
Both of us
sure do agree,
we're poets both,
me and ME.




Walt

MEL AND ANDI

Sisters in the truest sense of the word.

Seven years removed, but time

has a way of balancing things.

Andrea two inches taller

than her older sister is more wise,

But, it comes as no surprise

how the chasm in time has found a way

to heal itself. Equals in every way,

sharing in a vague sense of the word, but

never at a loss for a friend.

Of a single mind and purpose,

working out of the same closet,

and offering the support for

lives that have so far given

all they could have wanted.

A safe home, a loving father,

a caring mother, and each other.

Teacher and learner, in no

particular order. Daddy's "Little" girls.
In the garden of my life, my American Beauty Roses, 

Melissa and Andrea.

Walt

OBSERVATIONS: FROM THE LIGHTHOUSE

All-in-all, a good start. In a nineteen day run into February, Marie Elena and I have been able to compile a base of material from which to work. From our personal observations, to memories of our similarly cosmic childhoods, to our always interesting games of "Haiku Jai Alai", we are growing more as poets and learning a bit more about each other; always a good thing. We are looking forward to the coming months with great anticipation; what a mighty gift we have been given. It has been a true blessing to have been brought together in this place at this moment in time. Marie and I appreciate all who have come to share our words and given tremendous support for our modest efforts. We hope we haven't disappointed. And we promise to continue in the spirit of friendship and camaraderie. Our own Casablanca: "This looking like the beginning of a beautiful friendship!"

Walt