Mist beyond the window
screened shadows yet to come
and I heard soft breathing
of one love
Air so cool
so wet
all very like touch
of death
A distant raven
cried against the coming night
and hushed the crickets chatter
The wind was gone
rain pooled in small
but never bottom puddles
The candle long since snuffed
seemed to question,
"Will Heaven be this still?"
A thought whispered through my mind
If only the world could keep this peace
May 27, 1968
Dedicated to Mick Scarpelli aka Mick Scott (Herbert Francis Scarpelli)
8/19/1945 - 2/13/2017
poetry
Outside In
aligned
each stands
face less
divided burdens
one palm beseeching
one containing,
shadow lands
war zone,
battle scarred
voice recorders,
playback buttons,
dead hearts beating within
diaphanous shadows,
negativity
pings off memories
automatic weapon,
no safety in thinking,
aligned
each stands
face less,
who dies
who lives,
who was I
who am I
the only certainty
the war within
My past makes the challenges of daily life abstract. There is never clarity.
The Road Less Paved 