Titanic

One hundred years ago
a lovely maiden went to sea
hoping as all young virgins do

That her love, the sea
would protect and woo her
forever

But the fickle waters
waved and flirted
soon turning to Labrador ice

The sea took her but once
leaving the virgin Titanic
damaged, sad and sinking

Neptune, minion mermaids
fearful for the maiden
raised prayers and music to the heavens

Protect and keep her thousand souls
they cried
keep them nearer to God

Some were chosen by sea angels
to live, to remember
the beautiful maiden

Others,  in body,  accompanied
Titanic to the deep
and their souls soared to the firmament

But the sea
droit du seigneur complete
moves on

His tides
obeying, loving no one
but his mistress Moon

-0-

*Inspired and suggested by Ed Bremson, Poet

Friday Night in Gotham

Near five of the hour
sun smiles obliquely
hinting at coming wildness

Grey highrisers blush
crimsoning
at thoughts of pent-up, penthouse parties

Celtic pubs tune up
red-cheeked with ale
sharpening darts

Beer-battered fresh fish fry
malt vinegar, coarse salt
wrapped in stale news

Outdoor cafes
emulating Old World mores
metrosexuals competing with supermodels

Genuine jazz jive
screaming crazy quilt notes
through Times Square dives

Old mellow loves
new exciting ones
one-night stands

Four in the morning
and the night rocks my world
with its banging, star-sequined stillness

Anger

Insidious dawn
scratching the nap of night

Lying helpless
with ecru insomnia

Pinking slowly to crimson rage
at what was revealed

Something dark veils
the clarity of  broaching day

Alone with clacking bones
fighting protective derma

Sweat permeating sheets
at searing words

Rage ripping, tearing through cells
fighting mitosis, miosis

Pupils dilated to belladonna orbs
blinking toxic mist

Waiting, waiting for subsiding
soothing sleep

Anger fading, hiding in seductive
crystalline amethyst cave

Anger, that rubied dragon
for good, for evil

At the ready, quietly stoking
citrine embers

Power

Power
Energy, strength, control

What?

In America
Where is the power
Can you locate it?

State and national electric grids
Nuclear plants
Boulder Dam

Damn it!  No!

Power is wily Washington
Lobbyists wallowing in Potomac mire
Monsanto miasma

Power in the hands of the
The Senate Majority whip
Oh yeah, he’s got the power

The Supreme Court
Hey! Talk about power!
Should the Court powerfully decide an election?

Where is power?

In the United States Constitution?
Skewed, archaic interpretations

Where is power ?

In the People?
Do they care enough?

Weak muscle power
Dormant
Disuse atrophy

Muscle turned to
Reeking greed and fat

Power …

OFF

Trending

What’s trending?
I’ll tell you what’s trending
Trending is

Annoyed?
So am I
Who decides what’s trending

Is it the smart  young statistician
counting his way into
fame and fortune

Or the Madison Avenue
account exec
“Trust me” he says…”I’m in Advertising”

What’s trending?
Certainly not war, famine, greed
Boring staples

How about chocolate covered hissing cockroaches
from Madagascar
That could be trending

Or bottled water
from Gaza
Oh, no, who would have the rights..?

All fodder for trending
Smart talk for your next
cocktail party

Trending.

For Dorothy

I hardly knew her
no one did
few cared
she was old, bent, frail

She lived alone
in a fifth floor walk-up
struggling
the metal walker, her  closest companion

Hellos were tentative, bowed
but she showed up each day
for her charity luncheon
consumed in silent shabby elegance

She would write things
in her notebook
covered with Vincent’s
Starry Night

She would smile her goodbyes
in silence
this once tall, proud woman
Only the cornflower blue eyes spoke

Not so much of sadness
but a kind of resignation
and acceptance of what was, what is
a hint of mirth in the corners of her mouth

And she died alone
at her kitchen table
her head resting on
Vincent’s Starry Night

Dorothy
alone in her
fifth floor walk-up

Perhaps closer to Starry Night
than she had ever dreamed.

-0-

Choices

Choices
annoying needles
drawing blood –
or acupuncture for the soul?

How long can one waffle
shall it be this
will it be that
can it be both?

Shall I put this
in more poetic form
or do I wish to make a clear statement
and fine stringing be damned?

Is life really only about
choices?
can we not just let things happen?
I choose now, not to think about it

Of course,  making no choice
is a choice

Soon some choices will be
gone with the wind

But, there’s always tomorrow

My choice.