My Time

I hear Bernard was able
To break the cycle of violence
By committing fully to boxing.

They say he
Left it all behind
With a discipline that never wavers.

I’m loving my summer vacation
Stuck in the pleasure of peace
Untouched by the flaw,

My imperfection where
I want to make a point,
Driving home some zinger.

I heard his message
Of being right by not being,
By just going with the flow

Because problems are bigger
For others than anything
I’ve ever manufactured.

Then came August,
The last few weeks before returning
And something happened,

Shoulder pains, neck pains
Ridiculous dreams and
A renewed interest in protest songs.

I’m on my bicycle, Bernard,
Staying away from the corners by
Bobbing and weaving

Against those old habits
I let go during this summer respite,
My time of change.

Romping Through the Rumor Room

It’s funny learning about family.
Funny, in a “Really?” kind of way.
These tales of enforcers,
Names, handwriting,
And lineage
Make for an enlightening night
Of Who Am I?

I suppose all of that life experience
Only rests with the actual players
And my existence is my responsibility,
But it’s crazy when I think that
My family has had such a crazy life.
Assuming, of course, that the
Tales match the reality.

Going Home Haiku

Driving on Ninety-Five
Wanting a helicopter
Traffic really sucks


Fur everywhere
Right hand brushing
A long hair cat,
Left had brushing
A jealous pit bull.

Part of a Story is a Lie

Thank goodness for my education
So I could fill in the gaps
Of what I wasn’t taught
Back in the Old Dominion.

Like the extent my people went
To deny everyone else
A life constitutionally guaranteed
To them.

I’m saddened to think,
Barely sixty years ago,
Separate but equal
Was the rule.

I’m saddened to know,
Barely sixty years ago,
People professing morality
Were denying basic human rights.

And to think.
“Virginia is for Lovers.”
Lovers of what?

Now that I’m “educated”
The real learning is taking place.
My questions are answered completely.
My attitudes able to grow.

The way it should have always been.

The way it should have always been for everyone.

Make It Stop

I blame ESPN
For my hurting about sports.
The need to create news
So every minute
Of every day can be filled
With something sports related
Has led me
To a painful observation,

Sports are not fun anymore.

I love the sporting events.
I don’t love the saturation.
I miss Saturdays for college football with
Sundays and Monday nights for professional football.

Less, for me, was more.

Now sports are everywhere.
While the games are across the dial,
They are fairly easy to avoid.
It’s the news that is too much.
Balls without air,
Running backs and female invites,
Spousal abuse,
Pete Rose,
Labor disputes,
Billions of dollars,
CNN, FOX, Comcast, Local, Radio,


I know, turn it off.

I love sports.
I don’t love the reality show,
Twenty-four hour news cycle
That sports has become.
During the games, the news is right there too,
Scrolling, as if every minute or so
We needed to be reminded
Tom Brady may or may not
Like his balls a little softer.
There’s no getting away from sports news
Without cutting loose altogether.

If only it was that simple…


From where does inspiration,
That power raging and unseen,
From where do the ideas manifest,
Allowing energy to come

Perhaps there is a muse
Guiding and whispering thoughts
To us.
Perhaps it is the grind,
Cast in a discipline turning
Old soil.

The process is so unclear,
Yet I wait for it to
Grab me,
Sending my pen
On its next journey with either a
Fairy or plough.

Summer Day Haiku

Clouds stay overhead
Summer persistence held back
Trees sag with moisture

Begin Again

The sun is rising later.
Mornings begin a little darker,
But they start early and regularly
Thanks to my loyal alarm clock.

He rises each day
Shaking his head,
The sound of his ears announcing
It’s time to walk.

He rises each day
With a long Downward Dog
To stretch out the joints
And fill his spirit with energy.

He rises each day
At the half past five
Only to be asked to go back to bed,
Where he graciously allows five more minutes.

The days start too soon, but
At least I’m up.
I get so much done at this hour.
Him? Sound asleep.

Good Morning

The alarm went off early this morning
In the form of a wet nose
Poking me right in the middle of my face.

The offending snout was insistent,
Wanting to wake up and walk,
But, come on, it was still dark outside.

Besides, the birds were still sleeping
So I rolled over,
A tactic that had worked on my kids in the past.

No luck, nature was calling
And my man needed to get out,
Even if it was really early.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 561 other followers

%d bloggers like this: