Forgotten

Most days

I am unable to remember

Poems given to me

At inconvenient moments

Tell it to the Crowd

Three steps remain when it hits
The stench of stale urine
Making mood more contrary with each
Breath drawn in through nostrils
Unaccustomed to the city

The turnstile (are they still called that?) opens
To the gathering crowd waiting behind
The yellow line
Milling, pacing, talking
Scanning other eyes that refuse to connect

Wind pushes from the dark
Electric, warm
A whisper that tells of a coming train
Screams an obvious arrival through spark and steel

Exhaling

Inhaling

It begins

Heads down

Pushing
Cutting
Nudging
Bumping
Wedging
Closing
Lurching

Pressed in now feet arms legs backpacks bags satchels duffels contact inevitable too tight

Routine
Aggravation
Doesn’t have to be

Tell it to the crowd

O Sancta Simplicitas!

Sancta simplicitas! Simplicity

Holy, quiet, resolute.  When trials

Rise hot before me, fiery.  Or while

Accusations made with duplicity

Seek to question my authenticity

And, lacking truth, substitute vicious guile

Claim devotion as nothing more than vile

Heresy. Love as base felicity

Will I stand as Huss chained to the column

Singing hymns and looking to his Savior

Certain of a comfort that’s eternal?

Or will my heart fail before a solemn

Momentary fate and choose behavior

Trading a divine end for infernal?

Green

You are hope

And promise

Filled with strength and courage and life and all that can ever be

In a long, hard season you remain ever

Vigilant and a reminder of what was and what will again be

A gentle and persistent encouragement

Humble yet resplendent

Filling the spaces between

Maybe...

...I should post some stuff that isn't Boston-related?

Just an anomaly, I assure you.

On the 6:44 to Boston

It is 6:44

The train to Boston jerks forward and shakes me

As I settle into my seat

Facing rearward

The sky is cloudless, blue

Far too cold for April 18

The sun has broken free of the horizon and

Splashes itself against a scratched, dull Plexiglas window

And I squint through the glare at the rubbish

That gathers everywhere there are train tracks

Rusted cars and rimless tires

Appliances and shopping carts

Plastic shopping bags that

Caught in a locomotive’s draft

Are curled upward into the trees

Left to wave like weathered flags

Seen for a moment then

Disappearing

Into the grime and glare of a dull Plexiglas window

Lost to the speed and course of a train

And the lack of concern of a passenger who cannot see

Where he is headed

Only the fading memory of where he has been

A Sonnet for the Boston Marathon (2014)

Last two years my marathon poems have been humorous, with references to Uta Pippig and Rosie Ruiz. This year humor didn't seem appropriate. Perhaps next year, but until then I offer you:

 

A Sonnet for the Boston Marathon (2014)

 

When the time of Paul Revere’s Ride draws near

And the light of patriots of old dawns

We honor them with games and marathons

Memories of days and of ideals held dear

 

Yet now we strain to think beyond the year

Past a moment scarred by hatred and bombs

That took Martin, Krystle, Lingzi and Sean

Left others wounded, a city in fear

 

Even as innocents crumple and bleed

That light still glimmers as ever before

Piercing the dark of our “peril and need”

 

A fire that burns bright with love and deed

The word that shall echo for evermore

And strength that must never fail to lead

An April Day on Boston Common

An April Day on Boston Common (April 3, 2014)

On this day in April

When then sun, at last

Shone its warming light

On Boston Common

Princesses and prophets and poets

Blossomed like crocuses

Dressed in purple taffeta

Promising salvation or damnation

Waiting for inspiration

Marathon Poetry Archive

Starting in 2012 I decided I was going to scratch out a poem each year in honor of Massachusetts' Patriots Day tradition: the Boston Marathon.

My inaugural marathon verse can be found here.

Last year's poem can be found here.

Of course, when I wrote the 2013 version I had no way of knowing what would unfold at the finish line. Because of the tragic events of April 15, 2013 there was no way I could take the same lighthearted approach this year and feel good about myself. Cracking wise about Uta Pippig and Rosie Ruiz was fine before--and it will be again--but not this year. My 2014 marathon poem is a serious effort to commemorate that day and its victims.

I'll post the new poem soon, but wanted to get these to the top of the heap in the meantime.

A Change of Direction for My Blog

I'm ditching the privacy theme. Or at least mothballing it. Seems every time I resume my privacy blogging in earnest I end up being asked to spend my efforts in that regard elsewhere. That's kept me from generating any consistency and, as we know, a blog without consistency is no blog at all.

So while I will continue to write and generate content for others in the realm of privacy and information security, I'm going to focus my blogging efforts here on publishing my poetry and other forms of creative writing.

I'll leave the other stuff here as a legacy, but hopefully it will fade quickly into the past as my verses and stories accumulate.

Enjoy!