Drinking Alcohol taught me how to fly
Then it took away the sky....

Tuesday, April 30, 2013


Photo credit: Anna's son


child, what do you see?
what attracts your stare?
i believe that
only God is aware
what one day you'll be.

what put me there

in front of you
to catch this moment
of light, as yourself
you see in the lens?

grandchild of Anna

loved son of
loving son
who shall shoulder-carry
the family name, the tree.

be always ready...and aware.

each cat meeow, splashing fish,

running ant, sweet birdsong,
every Peep who comes along
teaches, reaches inside your brain...
learn to laugh, cry, live, love,

when pride says, "I KNOW"...dare!

a goal for you, baby one, be

Honest, Open-minded, Willing.
it is the HOW of living well.
and with your allure, I'm sure
a pleased God will say
you lived a life of
unending day.



Over @ dVerse Poets it is OpenLinkNight #94
--and the doors open Tuesday at 3 pm EST. HERE

Monday, April 22, 2013


For Open Link Night, week #93 at dVerse Poets Pub
Postings begin Tuesday at 3 PM EST



Picture age four, a little boy
to whom Santa brought a toy
fiddle. Word rhymed with
diddle, as in "Hey Diddle, Diddle
The Cat and His Fiddle...
cow jumped over the moon, and
dish ran away with the spoon..."

I positively hated the violin
Hated my mother--a sin--
which led to many years
of torture, tears and fears.

SKIP from age 4 to 75
Hardly a man is now alive...?*

In nursing home a violin plays--
and it is ME, some days!
Playing for the old folks,
conjuring maybe a memory.

Smallest old lady (Edna) in wheelchair bent
over, as if God might send for her
that very afternoon. Eyes closed, nothing
moved...soundless room...just we two
alone (with about 40 others!), me
on floor, kneeling so I might see her face
and she, restrained with a brace, still in
mode of sightlessness.

I said to The Spirit--"What shall I play?"
Floated out from my violin that day, a
favorite "Ave Maria" which would say
most honest truth known, to Edna,
new Friend, most smallest lady--who
opened her blues, squinted at me. 

As we "connected" I saw a tear--only one,
roll down beautiful age-pruned place
along that creek where nose meets face.
What Utter joy--HOLY JOY I felt, as
her joyful memory-tears followed the one...

Thank You, God the Father
and Thank You, my Mother
for Gifts you both gave me that day,
Gifts for me to now give away......

As nursing aide rolled her away, I felt something taken from me.
Several days later, she was in heaven with her real Sancta Marie.
A nurse had whispered,
"We wondered if she would ever again
look out from her head bent there...
whether might once more shed a tear."


...and every now and then, finding myself in a dark alley of life

I remember that day
and ask Edna to pray
for me.

This happened several years ago at                              

Moorings Park, Naples Florida

*from Longfellow's

Midnight Ride of Paul Revere

Tuesday, April 16, 2013


                                                      myriam loor

Is there a hell for these Peeps? HELL YES!

--Steve E

Pondering recent atrocities--while reading others who commented Monday's Boston Marathon 2013 happenings of horribleness--I found that I had not words to express my thoughts. Early this morning, picking up the most dusty book on my shelf, opening it randomly, I stared at this piece, as it stared back at me. From W H Auden's poem "Precious Five". This last stanza embodied my thinking, and is what I wished I could have written:

"I could" says the poet there,

Find reasons fast enough                        
To face the sky and roar
In anger and Despair
At what is going on--
Demanding that it name
Whoever is to blame.

The sky would only wait
Til all my breath was gone
And then reiterate
As if I wasn't there
That singular command
I do not understand:

Bless what there is, for being,

Which has to be obeyed, for
What else am I made for,
Agreeing or disagreeing?

--W H Auden

Posted by steveroni to dVerse Poets Pub 
Open Link Night (OLN), week #92

Monday, April 1, 2013


Posted in OLN (Open Link Night) week #90.
Join us beginning 3 PM Tuesdays at dVerse

The King of Sarcasm
walked into the room
with tongue cocked
ready to shoot.

Zing. Zing
Pop. Pop.

Crippling blows
struck their targets
as he walked off
to sit alone…
and yes—

"Borrowed" from someone I do not remember.
Let me know, for attribution. Thank you.