October 2021


About Poemography

To commemorate the tenth anniversary of my Poem-A-Day Project, I am reprising my daily poetry challenge in 2021.

Every day this year—from January 1st until the 31st of December—I will create a new poem inspired by whatever moves me at the moment I sit down to compose that day's poem, publishing them here with subscription-free access for all.  

Every Tuesday throughout the year, I will write and publish one bonus poem that will be available exclusively to my Patrons on Patreon.

In 2022, I will publish a book of my complete poems, spanning more than 40 years of poetry writing. The complete collection of poems will be published in a limited edition hardbound book available for purchase. Enjoy the year!


Anger Management


It would be fair to say

That you know how to

Push my buttons;  still,

I am uncertain about

Your motives and your

Endgame and how you

Imagine it all plays out;

Either way, there will be

No winners in your sad

Sordid game, just losers

And too many to count;

But you'll finally have the

Satisfaction of achieving

Everything you set out to

Without concern about

The cost or consequences


Emotional Dysregulation


There's no easy way

To swallow a bitter

Pill or accept the

Truth when the 


Truth hurts;

There's nothing

More painful than

Laughter that conceals


Unhappiness and pain

The kind of pain not

Even the greatest

Love can ease;

And through all

The laughter and

Tears, all that remains

Is a longing to be set free


Autumn Sun


There is nothing quite as warm,

Calming and seductive as the

Autumn sun; its gentle rays

Falling from the sky in

Radiant bursts of light

Filling my heart with an

Overabundance of energy;

Sunshine, warmth and rich blue

Skies, soft breezes lightly nudging

Browning leaves whose tender

Suppleness is slowly giving

Way to a brittle demise;


 By day's end, the once

Brilliant and warming sun

Has been supplanted by ashen

Clouds and the sorrow of nightfall


Waiting for Abbott


It's been over a year and I'd be lying if I

Told you I haven't been harboring a bit

Of guilt for not having reached out

To you sooner, especially with all

The pandem/ic/onium that's been

Undermining humanity these past many

Months; I'm so happy and relieved to hear

That you're well; I was beginning to worry in

That you hadn't replied to my message (though

It was only a few days ago); I worry about

Those I care most for and in my worrying

I took to the internet, Googling you and

Even thinking about reaching out to your

Daughters; then I stumbled upon some cool

Stuff, like the amazing story of your mother and

The revelation that your real name isn't really Abbott


842 Hours


It's not that it's a long journey

From here to there, but it does

Make me wonder about all the

Hours you'll spend as you make

Your way from point A to point B

Alone, in the company of strangers

Clanking along the tracks or riding

Down dark and rainy paths to your

Final destination; there are times,

Sadly enough, I imagine feeling

Your sadness and disillusionment,

But then again these are merely my

Observations, as misguided as they

May be; deep inside I'm hoping my

Perceptions are wrong and that you

Are as happy as you are meant to be


Emotional Cancer


There is a malignancy

That festers and lingers

Plaguing the soul with a

Paralyzing malignancy so

Intense, incurable and raw

That it corrodes the very

Essence of the human

Spirit; an emotional

Cancer, unwavering

In its metastatic resolve

To dissolve the little hope

There is in finding any bit

Of happiness in times of

Dire despair when it seems

Happiness is the only drug we

Need to survive our bitter crusade




What would I do

Given the opportunity?

I'm trying to put the whole

Thing into perspective though it

Always comes out unfavorably in

My perception; I have to keep

Reminding myself about

Everything I've had

And everything I've

Already done in my life

And learn to be happy with

That; it's really not so complicated

But then I think about the future and

How lonely the journey would

Be without someone like

You to share it with


The Country House


It took me nearly a lifetime to do it

But I finally own a home of my own;

My name, the only name on the deed

And it's lovely and white and filled with

Nothing except daydreams and rays of

Immaculate sunshine; and only pure

Hearts stay here, minds with noble

Unfettered imaginations, souls that

Illuminate the darkness and foster

Comfort, love and safety; I watched

Adam's film again last night, crying as

I always do when he cries; and seeing him

Induced a dream about you coming to see

Me, walking in while I was sitting on the

Porch; I watched you through the crack in

The door as you swept the kitchen floor


Breaking Me With Light


I look back on all the

Songs I've written, those

That were left unfinished and

Others whose lyrics I no longer

Recall; and I ponder the dozens

Of stories and novels that, to

This day, remain unfinished

Or float in the cobwebs

Of my waning memory;

The tunes and melodies and

Unspoken conversations of the

Characters conjured up in daydreams

Or the half-done dramas and two-page

Screenplays whose titles have all

The allure of Oscar winners

But sit alone in the void




It collects, it falls, it blows

Every which way and no

Matter what I do it seems

To reappear as quickly as

I wipe it away or swat at

It clumsily through the air

Where it hovers and drifts

Through bands of sunlight

I breathe it deeply into my

Lungs, ingest it innocently

With my morning porridge

And yet cannot even begin

To fathom how so many of

These particles make their

Way into my home taking

Over every expanse of air


Wanton Improprieties


It shouldn't have started this way

I was wrong for what I did, for

How I chose to go about doing

Things; but that I did and that

Things turned out the way they

Did, I'm hoping you'll look past

My imperfections and the wanton

Improprieties of my brazen plot;


 But if, after all that has transpired,

You still find the need to assign

Blame, than by all means blame

It on love, for it was love that

Drove me to face my fears and

Push the very boundaries of the

Obstacles that stood between

You, me and the want of desire


The Quiet


I used to eschew silence

Worrying that it brought

Me closer to death, that

In the absence of sound

My soul would evaporate

Into millions of particles of

Mist eventually fusing with

The universe; that the quiet

Would subdue my thoughts

Leaving only tactile residue

Of what I was once was, a

Smear of my existence that


Would never be remembered,

That no one could ever see,

Touch, smell or taste; a mere

Moment in time lost in the fray


The Foreseeable Future


I was pleasantly surprised

Having received that call

From the young German

Woman; and oh, how

Very many questions

She had for me; asking

About this and that, why

Would I want to go back

To work after a four-year

Hiatus and what exactly

Would make this job a

Good job; and I think

I had a good answer

For every question but

I wasn't sure if the woman

Thought I was a bit off kilter




I knew there was something going on;

Your subtle clues and my keen intuition

Led me to that conclusion weeks ago;

Yesterday, my suspicions were confirmed

I give you a great deal of credit, being

So honest and forthcoming, something

I would surely be unable to do under

Those circumstances; and how alike we

Are, how very much in common we have;

Ailments and melancholy, a tsuris here

A tsuris there; lovelorn and besieged by

Those who tried but were never really able

To grasp the complexities and intricacies

Of our deep-rooted emotions and unique

Way in which we view the universe; but in

The end, we are life's enduring survivors


What To Do About Emilia


What would you do if you were me?

I understand your arguments; they are

Well conceived, thoughtful and even

Eloquent, but that does very little to

Change the facts of the matter; that I

Am your father's age, for one thing,

That I live within the constraints of so

Many peculiar predicaments and that

The inconveniences of aging are ever

Present and looming large; my body,

For example, twisted and vulnerable,

Deteriorating and fatigued; my mind

Slowly and unkindly taunting me as it

Morphs into a mass of hot wet sludge;

But that you love me, or at least think

You do, could be my very redemption


Can't Stay, Won't Go


You could say it's my life's

Biggest conundrum; how can

Someone be so happy and so sad

All at the same time? How can malaise

And discontent be so overwhelming that

My very spirit is run down into the

Ground, crushed and trampled

Upon, left in a heap to die

A slow and painful death?

Elated by the cold dark sky 

Disheartened by the warming sun

No middle ground, nothing to appease

The discontent that has taken hold of my

Soul; I cannot stay in the maelstrom

And I will never venture out again

Into the tempest of inhumanity


From Within


I have to keep reminding

Myself that my greatest

Source of happiness

And fulfillment


Come from

Within; that my

Overindulgences of

Whims and fancies are

Nurtured by the dreams

I dream of you and I

Walking hand in

Hand along

Some sandy

Beach in Atrani,

Where our love was

Born and lasted forever


The Star


Once upon a time

A star fell in love

With a girl; one

Day the star


His love to the

Girl who said a

Girl could never love

A star for it was too

Old, too far away

And oh so very

Very bright

But, said

The girl, your

Love for me will

Be my guiding light




For warmth

And comfort

Each spoonful

Gently reminding

Me of home and

My lover's gaze

As I pass from

Lips I long to

Kiss with a

Slow delicate

Breath of desire;

I am the phantom

Of your yearning

That can only be

Conjured up 

In a dream


Grateful For


Clothes on my back

Roof over my head

Food in my belly

Bed to sleep on

Satisfying work

Healthy children

Money in the bank

Bicycle to get around

Relatively good health

A few good friends

Plenty of free time

Restful sleep


Music and film

Reading and writing

The splendid gift of life


Sixes and Sevens


We'll never see eye to eye

The chasm between us will

Only ever grow wider and

More distant; perhaps that

Was because the stars we

Followed never aligned in

The first place; but here we

Are and this is who we have

 Become; not even strangers

As strangers often extend a

Helping hand or kind words

Of support to those who seek

Such things; ours is a world

Of sixes and sevens, where

Nothing ever melds; it is a

Place of sad disparagement


Mental Health


I won't be intimidated by the leaves

Limp and browning, flaunting their

Imminent death, taunting me with

Their suicidal fall from the trees

Outside of my window; and I

Won't be moved by the morning

Fog, blotting out the sun, inspiring

The dismal haze to supplant the joy

The sunshine brings; but I know the

Sun is there, hidden, momentarily,

Behind the clouds, waiting ever

So patiently to reveal its rays;

I will not allow nature or the

Subtle cruelties of the season to

Belittle my sensibilities or taunt my

Always-fragile state of mental health


The Crystal Jar


It's been sitting there forever

The crystal jar; collecting

Stardust and memories

Of faraway places

Traveled alone but

Never lonely, the sun

And moon your guiding

Lights through the universe

With your pilgrim's staff

And scallop shell you

Walked the Way of

Saint James; you,

A stranger of this

Earth, a goddess-like

Force, enlightened by an

Odyssey to end of the world




I'll never go

But I could;

I wonder

If I'd


The one

Chosen to

Come there

To Apeldoorn

To live and

Make a



In these

Final, lonely

Remaining years




It's most likely a case of

Being delusional, seeing

What I want to see and

Hearing what I want to

Hear; or maybe I have

Simply reached the point

Of no return, drowning in

My own madness while

Everyone simply gazes

Upon my folly walking

On by without as much

As throwing me line or

Dousing me with a few

Subtle slanders; but they

Didn't see the way you

Looked at me, did they


Safe Harbor


I am not a saint,

Nor am I a sinner;

I have found there is

A balance between the

Two that without a great

Deal of effort can be,

At least most of the

Time, attainable;

So, when I look

Upon you with my

Wanton eyes, please

Do not reproach me as

I will cause you no harm

Not today, tomorrow

Or ever; let me be

Your safe harbor



Either Way


Either way I come out ahead

No better, no worse but simply

Balanced, stable and worthy of

Whatever the outcome might be;

But there is the question of focus

And will or will I not be able to

Keep my sights set on the task

At hand; or, once the thing is

Set in motion, will I or won't I

Find the wherewithal to keep my

Proverbial boat afloat; and a more

Pressing question is once the thing is

Afloat, where in the world will it take

Me and once I'm there, what exactly

Will I do? Whatever the answer is

I'll come out ahead either way


The Bad Fruit


Second guessing

And doubting; I've

Been thinking lately

That perhaps it's me

The bad fruit; I mean

There's always that

Possibility that I'm

The one who is

Poisoning the

Tree; making all

That surrounds me

Decay and loathsome;

But then again, life has

A way of reaffirming

The truth and all that

Is irreproachable



Granville Avenue Beach


I'd like to think of heaven as a

Heavy wooden armchair with

Thick wide slats set just at the

Edge of the sand at Granville


Avenue beach where the smell

Of frankfurters and Dusseldorf

Mustard from Café Brauer waft

Through the clammy summer air

My grandfather returns with the

Vanilla soft-serve cone I'd been

Begging him for all afternoon

And as I stood there on the hot

Sidewalk dancing overjoyed at

Receiving my reward, it was too

Late before I saw the ice cream

Had melted all over my sailor suit


Living in My Mind


It's a safe place

Living in my mind

Where thoughts run

Uninhibited and quiet

Where I can imagine

My life with you in

Paradise while I

Remain in light

There are worlds

I create in dreams

Where I can feel you

Softly touching my head

I will awake to a sunrise

Find you by my side

And nothing will

Ever be as real


Blip on the Map


I watch contemplatively

     As the blip on the map

Gets closer and closer

     To its final destination

But I also watch with

     Sadness and reserve

Thinking about what's

     Flowing through your

Mind while you're

     Riding your bike or

Sitting on the tram

     Coming and going

To a faraway place

     Where you're made

To conform, to do as

     You're told and learn