Song of Pinball

Four quarters in the slot, and the game begins.

A fully loaded spring, fully dedicated to its release.

A heavy, magnetic ball is the object of its aim.

Round and shiny, ready to roll with magic to display.


Smack, the coils fold and hit the table, as a sloppy wooden

FLOP quickly awakens hidden musicians, who loudly

Orchestrate a rhythm that’s pre-ordained.

Chimes, bells and buzzes,

Rings, bings and booms,

All are some of the notes it sings.


Hold the buttons or push them quickly.

The flippers respond in time. Humming sweetly,

Flip, flip, slip, slip, slop, flippity-flop.

The scoreboard chimes, counting only upward,

Click, click, click, click,

Cling, cling, ding, ding,

zoooop, bang.

Enter your name; you’re the new high scorer.

I’m On My Way

I have to go in an hour or so,

it’s what I told myself.

In earnest, I couldn’t say why,

or even where.

Except, it’s certainly not here.


I’ll find my way, I suppose,

sometime after I begin.

Each step begets the rest,

even the unknown.

Times up, I must be going,

Though I still know not where.


Pleasure can be found in going,

Even without foreknowing.

So, I’m going; I’ll let you know when I get there.

Pocket Treasure of Great Worth

At last, I’m moving on from shackles unseen and invisible.

I’ve tarried long enough and sank to the bottom.

I’ve run long and found myself out of breath.

I’ve held on too long to a treasure of no value.

Today I’ll stand, or better yet – tomorrow.

The final drops were nearly spent,

Although the bottle lay empty and broken,

It has gone forever but remains unspoken.

The cap is a flatted piece of metal

Is now a painful token.

One I carry with me in my pocket.


It shows itself, rearing its ugly head now and then,

In fits of rage, sadness, anger and depression.

Then returns unshaken to its prison.

Alive it remains, yet not in remission.

Until to pain, I cling no more and chose to stand.

To hurl down with mighty voice

And take back hours, no years, lay barren

and in waste, stemmed from places deep within.

I’ll stroke your hair to fall asleep in the form of comfort there.

I’ll dare to dream the joy of dreaming dreams,

My imagination runs wild but is easily awakened.


But, if my eyes do open and you are there,

I’ll wash away the dried-up tears my heart refused to lend.

And from now on, I’ll think of you – as the token in my pocket.

Standing Tall in the Darkness

The most beautiful act in the year
At least from the perspective of these eyes
Was seen in a large auditorium filled to the brim and bursting the seams.
Covered in darkness except for the stage
Whose lights set the audience aglow
I could see the silhouettes of a family
The father the tallest off on the left
To his right his youngest son also the shortest
Both singing their hearts out with no reservations
And blind to the actions of the rest of the family.

The daughter stood in the middle matching her height
And next to her was the mother a bit taller but not much
She stood with her arm round the neck of her son
Calming and soothing him like a blanket
Who sat tall in his wheelchair in the aisle at the end of the row.
He sang boldly and loudly and wild with movement
But for a moment he stopped letting his mom kissed his forehead
Then he squirmed more than he had before
His sister leaned forward to view the excitement
And then she did something I had not expected.

Without a word exchanged she exited the row
And now standing in the aisle next to her brother
She put her arm around his waist and mother lowered hers to his shoulders
Then together they lifted him up
He stood their quite tall on the tips of his toes
Swinging back and forth in full support from sister and mother
Now singing at the top of his lungs
I believe he was smiling and happiest then
For a moment it seemed liked the spotlight had shifted
As if it was now fixed on him alone
I believe his hands were lifted as high as they went
Higher than mine of that I am certain.

He stood in awe and in reverence and praise
As he gave it his all - worshipping the King
A tear rolled down my check and I brushed it away
I was happy and moved and stood in awe
For the sight I had witnessed was so lovely and innocent and pure
A giving of one’s best made the wheelchair disappear
And so did the crowd, the music and the lights along with everything else
All that remained was a scene worth recording
My only hope is that I wasn’t the only one to have seen it.
But now so have you, so pass it along.

Stirrings in the Dark of Morning

There’s magic in the morning
Both before and after the light appears.

In the stillness of the darkness before the sun awakens
The earth is quite, still in slumber there
A scene of peaceful yearnings as a glow begins to appear
Spreading ever so slowly, piercing ever near
I could almost hear the sleeping and dreams of dreamers

Dreamers now nearly waking from their beds
Some rested others fluster with the begins of anew

Each morning a new creation something to
discover or uncover from what at once you thought you knew
Light is streaking inwards erasing what was hidden
Sparking newness and appearances what was dark and still now is bright
Uplifting with momentum the rays begin to fight
Ever growing and ever showing what was hidden is now alight

The magician harkens listen to his song of morning light
Beat the darkness every morning by singing with the light
Speak His name into the darkness and the light within appears.

Oh, Your Dog

Sometimes I wish,

I was your dog;

At least, then, I would feel loved.

What do you mean and what differences you ask,

You’re quick to correct,

No mess is avoided.

For you do command and shout:

              “No”, “Don’t”, “Stop”, “Enough!”

oh me, oh my.

But with little thought,

You also do conclude:

The positive affirmations,

The warm embraces,

Pats on the head and even, belly rubs.

That look,

The simple, friendly conversations,

And sometimes, even just, the tone.

Oh, alas, to be the dog.

But then,            I look into the mirror,

And there,          it does not shatter,

It, does not crack,

It is intact,          it does reflect.

I see the same,  for I am there,

Oh, oh me, oh my, my dear.

The Business of the Moon

Teach me to earn

It’s business they implore

I live above

You live below

I see you everyday.


I walk to class

You brush your hair

I study and work out

You have coffee

You giggle

You transact through merrymaking.


I sit next to you and read

You are sunbathing

Your beauty is blinding and I’m
invisible like the moon at noon

You don’t even know my name

You’ve learned to make deals with ease.


Our eyes speak

But our lips do not respond

I’ll incorporate, I’ll strategize

But you are a treasure for another.

Alone in the Desert

I lay wide awake tossing and turning in the pop top van.

The cold air bites my nose and the barking, yapping, crying,
fighting haunts my ears.

You are sound asleep.


Outside in the cold you lie alone.

Dreaming in your sleeping bag,

In the moonlight,

In your stocking cap,

You turn.

I pray that you’ve awoken,          but

You are still and quite.


As the noises die down,                              I find some rest

But my fears and worries follow me.

Snakes can climb and spiders do dance

When alone in the desert you dream.

But you are with them in the sand

And you are without fear

Or so it seems.


I cry out and quick you’re at my side

For fear has gripped you there.

You laugh at me and relieved you retreat.

You hide your fears and fall asleep;         so do I,

For now, I know you’re there, and
now I know you care.