New Poems

Living in the splendor of this city,
With all the wealth on short display;
Spring is blooming now, but some will pity
Summer’s heat and winter’s gray.
 
Leaves will fade in time to yellow from green,
Dried up too soon, and blown away,
Until the Arctic chill comes down unseen
In a season with its own decay.
 
Outside, in light, I feel the sun’s warm love,
And in the dark, a moonlit sigh;
Memories once buried, now brought above,
Like birds that fly the midnight sky.
 

I am not a poet. 

There was an island, somewhere in the sea,
Where he sailed for miles away from any land,
Alone and guided by the stars he could see
To a distant shore on a narrow strand of sand.
 
Setting foot, he looked at a far off peak,
Eyes rising past a thousand ancient pines,
Through which he climbed past cliff and creek
Until at night he stopped to pray for signs.
 
He woke as the sun began to rise from the sea
And heard the birds come out in a choral song,
To sing a melody of when his heart was free

Skip Perfect

Deep down, I knew it was you. 

Art is violent
Art is terrifying
Art is pure
Expression
Passion
Freedom

It is pain
And ecstasy
And the between
Where all things meet
In the stillpoint
Facing absolute truth of heart

Art captures you
And forever reveals
All understanding
To bring you home

Forty years old, I’ve sinned
With this cup of wine,
To wander in the wind
On a path without a sign.
 
Looking up to the mountain top,
With hints of blossoms laid,
I ponder this life I’ll swap
For some quiet beneath the shade.

God's white clouds
quilting the sky
traveling on hints of wind
making it cool.

In Central Park the cherries begin to bloom
On a sun-drenched day when birds have left their notes
For us, intruders inside their sanctuary moats,
Unseen but heard in the shadows where the branches loom.
 
I walk a narrow path that’s filled with wood chips,
Fine grass and leaves enveloping the way,
Creeping past and among the gates on which they play
In the wind like the smiles on a thousand lips.
 
Deep within the trees there is a shelter
Where all the park unfolds its jagged edges
And there I rest in the mid-day swelter