Myrtle Beach June 2020 Series continued -4-

High Tides and Morning Walks

along the beach they stroll

these morning walkers do,

as close to the chairs as they can

to keep out of the cold water

and the spray of the waves that

harshly beat upon the dirty sand;

floaters, not in the eye, float

on the drab army green colored water

ignoring the hiding sun behind

the clouds it brought at sunrise and

whose moisture will soon cascade

down on the walkers and the watchers;

high tides are seldom good for anything

except surfers whose thick boards

glide along like ice skaters crisscrossing

an outside rink as if a warm drink was

just as welcome as a cool ocean breeze;

chairs at the water's edge are enjoyed

by many whose bottoms will fill up

with sand before lunchtime and a

dash for deeper water will soon be

observed by all those who noticed;

laughter muffles the sounds of

barking dogs and crying children

catching the attention of walkers who

must walk closer because of high tide.

June 24, 2020

Myrtle Beach June 2020 Series continued -3-

Our Brief Existence

throughout the eras, we have seen the

universe spawn millions of galaxies,

throughout the periods, we have seen the

galaxies shift to form solar systems,

throughout the ages, we have seen 

solar systems evolve from the collection

of planets and stars inside their domains,

throughout the millennia , we have seen

earth shape its continents and poles,

throughout the life of mankind, we have seen

how the value of life comes and goes

witnessing the voluntary destruction of

our environment and the careless reckless

treatment of all of earth's inhabitants,

throughout my lifetime, I have seen the

senseless control of some over others

and all the waged wars to determine truth,

throughout my retirement I have often

wondered if our freedom and self regulation

we enjoy was the real purpose behind 

our creation and our brief existence.

July 23, 2020

Myrtle Beach June 2020 Series continued -2-

THROUGH A WEEPING EYE

behind a protective coating, my

right eye weeps as it peers out

at the sun's reflection off the

murky water in front that transforms

into shades of white as the waves

crash onto the sand, digging our

holes underneath the feet of the

people who are standing there;

a well groomed dog sits under a

towel draped over the back of its

master's chair until it decides to

dig out a trench in which it lays with

open snout and outstretched tongue

patiently waiting to be taken into water;

scores of people walk and talk as they

cross the path of my weeping eye

whose clarity has faded over the years

but not bad enough to be corrected, still,

what is seen is not always understood

and oftentimes misunderstood as

personality and experience cloud

and obscure interpretations of realities;

vantage points change as do locations

and the weeping eye peers off into

a different direction as shading needs change

from a gradual rotating sun that moves

in and out-of-clouds with constant regularity;

a southwesterly current cools the breeze

that blows around us and the moisture

collected at our base momentarily soothes

the heated passions that have been growing

while under the umbrella we have remained;

time seems to have stopped or at least slowed down

\but continues all the same as it always does,

reminding us of our lack of immortality

and that each day is a precious gift to be

embraced and enjoyed as it quickly passes;

spots of color holding packages move in the sky

pulled by boats on the surface of the water

moving slower than they appear to be and

my weeping eye acknowledges their presence;

smelled rain is in the air, even tasted but

delayed in its appearance and the wind

blows it more off course and once again

nature allows us more opportunities today.

July 23, 2020

Myrtle Beach June 2020 Series -1-

AT WATER'S EDGE

a breeze without force

ever so quietly

against the backdrop

of the ocean's roars,

stimulates the flaps

of the umbrella as it

travels underneath its dome;

sand reflects the sun

against sunscreen bodies

of foreigners whose travels

intentionally brought them 

to these southeastern shores;

clad only in their underclothes

they walk barefoot along

these ancient white sands

as if as new warriors they

bring a purpose gazing out

at the endless water and the

horizon belt that separates it

from the rest of the world and the

light blue sky tucked in behind it;

human animals stand knee

deep in the water cooling off

their extremities allowing the sun

to bake them in a Dutch oven day

while Conestoga carts pulled by male mules

through the sand bring the tools of

the tourist trade to these shores as

the bleached out bodies already there 

watch the entertainment through

their relaxed, sun baked eyes,

remembering their own journey

when the crowds were not so large;

colorful circular disks spin as 

they float through the air, 

hovering majestically at their destinations

and are returned by the receiver

who automatically becomes the sender

by a snappy flick of the wrist;

sunglasses hide the eye's lies 

when they gaze at the strollers and

those unabashedly bending over

oblivious to the set of circumstances

they have set in motion, but,

those not gazing are reading or using

technology to pass the time since

there is precious little else to do.

June 22, 2020

Five At A time - 1985 - M

UNTITLED

inside our careful domain

outside expected conformity

we substitute fantasy for rules and

logic for an imagined creativity;

arm to arm, we wrestle with 

our feelings and the love of what

we offer willingly...  uncontrollable;

easily we slip past each other

as we lay facing the floor,

our mouths touch

our lips are soft and longing

our bodies move closer together

and we hold tightly until it is over.

February 25, 1985

UNTITLED

the white haired couple hides well the

years of struggle beneath their

wrinkled skin and as each are bent

forward slightly whisper a quiet

conversation occasionally pausing

but quickly returning to their

partner's admiration and the

singularity of their companionship;

the old couple, lazy after years

of wasted movement, enjoys the

passing minutes of the day and the

brevity of what they cannot stop;

how many sunrises have they seen, I wonder?

and who they were before they met;

the tree they planted when first married

and used for firewood just last year;

my eyes for one brief moment and the

couple before me simply disappeared;

I go back often to find the wisdom

so easily shared that afternoon and\the

vision is gone along with the couple

and my wife and I remain apart and I'll

always wonder just who I saw there

the day, last year, when I left you.

February 23, 1985

UNTITLED

quietly we lay together

in each other's arms and

escape into a silent serenity

of our private thoughts;

softly our whispers teasingly

take us to a dreamlike fantasy

from which our romance 

disrobes the fabric of our reality;

our partner's beauty reflected

by the eye's mirror is absorbed

as our bodies remove all doubts

of our innocence and we are together

alone for the first time as we make love;

our tears scorching the mutual

souls of our desires and remain

forever in our sacred hearts.

February 19, 1985

UNTITLED

cast upon the ground like shadows

we exist in semi darkness and 

survive within the paradox of images

described in metaphors and similes;

all our yesterdays more than simple memories

hauntingly dwell forever within

the special corners of our souls;

protected backward glances into a time that seemed

endless stopped as quickly as it had begun;

a time more genuine that before where

our love was casually determined and

we were its lustful victims sacrificing sane

obligations for one brief but perfect erotic moment.

February 18, 1985

UNTITLED

we stand before each other as if at the base of an 

altar and ceremoniously our clothed bodies embrace;

rapturously, we offer our thoughts and feelings

as our touch explores each other's secrets;

silent and graceful and looking into each eyes

we remove all garments until our nakedness 

and pulse are the only things aware to us;

your body betrays its beauty as its softness is

partially but erotically hidden from my view;

our desires are quickly heightened while we

anticipate our partner's touch and both sensing

the sensuousness of the tan vest and both

confident all expectations will be resolved;

our kisses, reluctant at first, test our willingness

to surrender, becoming prolonged as the fluorescent

glow soothes our covertness as our tongues probe

and inflame the desires we so cleverly hid behind

along with quick glances and body language we

ensured was only reserved for the two of us;

gradually we moved towards the floor facing 

our exposed bodies, touching from head to toe;

your head cradled in my arms looks at me with

longing eyes as we move even closer and our

lips press softly and gently together encouraging

our bodies to press even closer together, molding

each other into one rhythmic expression of lust;

trembling, we feel ourselves being wrapped with

blankets of unrestrained erotic desires justifying

quivering hands finding our moistness and

skillfully triggering that moment of sensation

that joins us together forever inside, solidifying

the undeniable and incredible truth of our love.

February 8, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - L

UNTITLED

a gentle side of morning awakens us

refreshed in a new image of yesterday

as we splash on tomorrow's memories

and dress carefully as today's lovers.

April 23, 1985

UNTITLED

the day falls short of

its own intended purpose

as the evening glow

casts shadows and the

sky blurs into its horizon;

sounds of night fill our

conscience with what we

do not hear and our

bodies grow limp in

each other's arms;

we hide the innocence

of our feelings and are

drawn together from the

strength of our love;

our mysteries...  now

faint memories, have

become barriers to our

acquittal as we continue

to embrace the day's end

and our quiet time is

now used to say goodbye.

April 22, 1985

INTIMATE FRIENDS

when reality fades, our dreams drift

into restless desires and fantasies of

isolated beaches with nights full

of endless romance and unspoken

passions and conscious sensual

pleasures while tomorrow's fears

always try to avoid the journey.

April 19, 1985

UNTITLED

our lives, simple patterns of responsibilities,

sway in the breeze like two trees whose roots

hold fast and from whose branches we are

finally sheltered from the relentless storms;

our lives, reshaped excerpts of last night's dream,

protected in a blanket of pine needles, twist 

and turn in the predicted routines oftentimes

expected when faced with inclement weather;

our lives, complicated by  self-doubt whirlwinds 

and hampered by lost opportunity illusions,

casually pretend a permanence like a hollow

tree that stands unencumbered among the living;

our lives, guided by a single-minded purposefulness

she the innocent exteriors of a youthful exuberance

as our roots reach out through rocky soil and

find a self-supporting need against the storm.

March 21, 1985

UNTITLED

you touch...  and passions

are awakened I thought

inside were gone forever;

you kiss...  and my body

tingles as I feel the heated

blood surge through me;

I touch back...  in soft

circular movements and

kiss your cheek and the

corners of your mouth;

you eyes...  half closed

beckon...  and we make

love in unison and our

rhythms are automatic;

we are each other's lover

yet we belong and will

remain together always.

February 26, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - K

UNTITLED

dwelling upon predictable responses

living your yesterday's tomorrows

imagining our roles reversed and

you becoming love's victim with each

circumstance a struggle of completeness;

wondering in casual glances

fearing a stranger's caring.

August 2, 1985

UNTITLED

we walk and talk becoming

partners with the ocean;

seagulls rearrange their flight

in graceful movements;

the sun peaks out from behind

the dark horizon sparkling

its own new awakening.

July 23, 1985

UNTITLED

images of faded youth

shine like distant stars

desert sands slip through the hourglass

and we scramble to recapture

its glow with memories tainted

by what  we want to see;

our biennial regrouping briefly

suspend what we are digressing into

what we were or what we think we were;

accept it all...

contempt for our found reality

softly fades...

scrapbook artifacts leaves us

saddened with its shortness.

July 22, 1985

UNTITLED

we offer fragments of our lives

to the highest bidder, keeping

for ourselves only the pretense

of someone else's dream;

we are the inner illusions of our

guardian's idiosyncrasies

perpetuating their outrage as our

self-indulgence dovetails into a

redirecting zeal of counter influence;

we are the stepchildren of our own fears,

as missed opportunities for some

become the "luck-of-the-draw,"

for  others, and we can see our 

fortunes off in the distance horizons,

their cocoon holds no golden butterfly,

but our future is predetermined

and we learn to blame ourselves.

June 28, 1985

UNTITLED

standing within arm's reach

our eyes say nothing of the 

desire they receive and we 

face each other in silence;

our bodies touch and gradually

press together...  a perfect fit;

we hear nothing but out own

breathing and we feel nothing

but our own touch as we

become the physical extension

of our partner and quietly in

an obscure corner of our

private thoughts, we share

the intimacy of our love.

May 2, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - J

UNTITLED

silently we sit

side by side

quiet harmony

with only our words

you read as I write;

rediscovered values offered

trickle outwardly...

trickle inwardly...

surrounding our simplicity

and in time, we drift away.

September 3, 1985 

UNTITLED

we come together at the

end of the day and our

lives become fragments of

each other's disappointments;

we come together at the

end of the day and are

totally consumed by

each other's touch

by some unknown sensation

that keeps a part of our

hidden desires and fantasies;

we love like it's our last

amazed by its effect on us.

August 23, 1985

UNTITLED

we are guided by our own

outside responsibilities yet

we burden ourselves with

interference that might have

been prevented but only

postponed our inevitable love.

August 27, 1985

UNTITLED

dawn sweeps across the eye's horizon

photographs meld in the mind,

a morning haze cradles our infant sun,

silently we sit as if forever was

possible and today was unannounced.

August 8, 1985

UNTITLED

our touch reclaims its possession

a weakness prevails

softness invade softness

crawling with burning sensuality;

kisses reunites our passion

tenderly caressing 

subtle and casual

deliberate

probing the boundaries

of compromised desires;

returning each other's movements

with similar responses

we are one victim...

on sensation...

one lover...

one final but lasting memory.

August 6, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - I

UNTITLED

released to flee in a cynical world 

of forced cooperativeness, a bitter

trail of compromise prevails,

underhanded anger,

misdirected through the familiar

voice of petty differences;

an unstable time,

a time of reflections,

contemplating the justification

the rationale...  the purpose...

a symbolic digression untimely

in its purpose like some disease

poisoning a system whose

defenses appear to be ineffective.

September 12, 1985

UNTITLED

freely we share offering

physical reminders to a

more gentle side...

caring and vulnerable;

a makeshift bedroom

rearranges our lives forever

our tears accommodate

a purification of lost innocence

overwhelmingly joined through

a touch of explosive sensations;

distance brings us closer

grasping the moments...

an image...

a memory...

a photo-realistic hologram

of our choices...

our weaknesses...

our compromises...

our painful ecstasy of

wanting to be in love.

September 11, 1985

UNTITLED

a darkness prevails

her evening cloak

a fine laced tapestry

of brief encounters;

an early bird morning

turns out the dog onto

a hazy rain-drenched field;

a quiet interlude

radiates in soft pastel

reds, blues, and yellows,

barely visible romping

and prancing freely on the

shoreline of the horizon.

September 9, 1985

UNTITLED

amidst our daily interlude

we dance in circles

not compromised

not controlled

relentless we pursue,

released... our compromises

fall with the leaves;

unsettling revolutions of

down-like

unregulated passion emit

sympathetic pleasures,

our heads swirl in an

invisible mist of sensations,

our bodies ache to be

sculpted...  molded...

transformed into an

unsurpassed willingness;

our touch persuades and

intensifies an inner longing that

erupts our boiling body cauldron,

whispering "I love you,"

feeling more completely

joined than ever before.

September 6, 1985

UNTITLED

if we pretend a carelessness

through which we enforce a

barrier of unanswered affections,

a singed discipline

a prolonged excuse to persuade

too rigid...

not denied...

we presuppose and a surrogate

father disguised as extracurricular

sifts through our time clocks

watching...

hoping for that single, yet,

difficult change of attitude as

we continue to force habits,

interplay...

still longing for a son.

September 4, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - H

FRIDAY'S POEM FOR JACK

the line is long and we wait marking time, looking... 

grazing our thoughts into other's minds wondering 

who they are or what they might want to be;

talking of Picasso and the inevitable cycle of life

through which we all must pass and from which 

we all are judged while over over coffee we reflect

on issues of current interests, entertain thoughts

of next year's vacation and tales of an earlier time

simple and plain of our lives overlapping briefly,

leaving behind a sharing of friendships and the

ever constant unfolding of the current new day.

September 27, 1985

AT OUR WILLS

cast down into a  predisposed

predetermined circle of wills,

a contract at will...

no will...  no win...

there is a legal right to false conclusions

a common practice of unleashed aggravation

and a return to the days of yesteryear,

yesterday...  not today...

"nevermore,"  quote the raven

quote the inner voice of our darkness

of our losses...  cut and dry...

isolated, we see more backs

than faces...  a minority free disposition.

September 18, 1985

ALMOST UNNATURAL

it's just to you I give the right touch

the right movements...

to a body perfect in its tones and

and textures and softness...

a reciprocation which casts no doubt

on our ability to illicit such passion

so quickly and so completely...

a reservoir unbounded

almost unnatural...

a possession of witchcraft

or demonic perhaps

as if every nerve ending has been

exposed to some mystical aphrodisiac

paralyzed...

magnetized...

a forfeiture of escape

a physical time bomb exploding

a mental frenzy within you

within me...

within us both...

September 17, 1985

A BLURRED VISION

symbols of an earlier time

when happiness transcended all

and our physical love was a

natural expression for the unkind

years that were soon to be;

damaged entanglements of an

estranged marriage burned like wet leaves,

the rooms of our love, filling them

with choking smoke and

blurred our vision...  our escape...

surrendering to each other's domination

accepting failure are the true

bearing of the compass, we pronounced

the weekend's success if Monday

broke the trance and we could hide

amidst the altered states of employment.

September 16, 1985

A DARWINIAN PURPOSE

faced with the realities of a subjective world,

our rights fall within the domain of a selective few;

those who redeem their frailties through the

collective wisdom and a self-imposed

ordination of their cause and those who conquer

the wills while suppressing an individual motivation

on those who actually got them there...

faced with the realities of the harsh winter of people's thoughts,

we become forced to live like a minority

sheltering our creativity

reserving our ideas for other who have no need

to control or manipulate...  as if some

Darwinian purpose allows only a few to survive.

September 13, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - G

WIND WARRIORS

we walk on floors of leaves, softened

by an overabundance of rain,

soiled boots leave faint reminders

of our trespassing path,

animals scurry curiously

for uncovered food,

we silently remember

our vows of time;

wind warriors in a universe

all to ourselves foretold

by H. G. Wells...

our leaves too must fall

in multi-colored patterns,

their seeds buried in shallow graves,

unmarked and waiting for Spring;

we are time bandits and for

almost a decade have sustained

our cascading influence...

a circle of rings holds us fast,

our roots atrophied by time slowly

nurse the earth's nectar now.

October 15, 1985

TWO LOVERS

just a simple kiss

unfolding

as the pedals of a rose

yielding a subtle softness

like a baby's skin or the

creamy texture of your

inner thigh wrapped

carelessly yet tightly

around mine;

tenderly your longing and

caring invites my 

passion and desire to

probe further

deeper

with my tongue,

wetting your lips as

I withdraw,

soothing

reassuring,

to kiss again

sliding past your lips

into a surrogate opening

as two lovers are joined

feeding each other's passion

of sensations and our

own haunting sensuality

mounting...

rising...

erotic...

touching those places 

saved ,

for later,

pulling back

looking into each other's eyes

tormenting...

a face that glistens

with excitement

wanting to give in\

and take,

take what we've created,

smiling

caressing each other's faces

with heated fingertips

quickly kissing,

slowly...

wildly...

pulled inside as if

magnetized ...

as if on fire...

waiting...

wondering if we

should postpone...

lost control

but neither losing,

protecting what's ours

so we may soon

making love again.

October 9, 1985

GIVEAWAYS

unspoken boundaries

guidelines

our feelings make

with admission

a deepening involvement

an endless array of

lights and bells and with

a song and a dance;

lipstick stains and

give-a-ways, the

weekend flirts with

depression and I watch

it pass and tears cleanse

what little guilt is allowed

as Tuesday's child is

married and we avoid the

basic rustic brown.

October 8, 1985

A BURIED PAST

our birthright fades

weakened by a natural maturity

enfilade and drifting scars

that didn't heal

suppressed influences

weekly sessions of

groping and peeking into nothingness;

community property

eight times two and youth of thirteen,

females feeding

stealing our daily emotions and caring,

we touch through forgotten

sentiments sealed in a tomb

of lifelong resentments,

 a wandering commitment 

which seeks out its own equilibrium

and learning what was

before us forgotten.

October 7, 1985

SIMPLICITY FAILS

down together we lie

in mutual regret,

face-to-face

breathing life into an

emotional quicksand;

a time to postpone and

flee as fleeting moments

digress into prolonged goodbyes

and we dream again

uninterrupted...

to dream before the

winter encroaches and

wants it back;

names remain mentors

in our imaginations when

our lives were simple,

kind and patient but our

intensities replaced a 

natural glibness...

down and dirty we grasp

at each other's love

retracing footsteps to a 

woodless clearing of random

glances and shedding exteriors;

feeling the wind

a gentle breeze against

our naked bodies and

free flowing rhythms of 

common self-indulgence.

September 30, 1985

Five At A Time - 1985 - F

MY FATHER

bent over in casual obedience

muddled hands claw at the red clay;

the old man grey and balding

the stub of a cigar clenched tightly in the center of his mouth,

looks intently at the hole in the ground

on either side his knees support a massive frame,

a young dogwood sits by his side like his old dog used to;

perplexed, he digs the hole deeper then

gently places the young tree inside...

fallen leaves are gathered and placed

in the hole around the bundled roots then

dirt is added and the process is repeated until the cavity filled;

upright the dogwood stands in front of its new master;

a pleased look appears on the old man's tilted face

as he lights his cigar and a puff of smoke

rises towards a sunset sky.

October 29, 1985

A WORKING MAN'S LAMENT

grey morning dawn greets and treats us to a sunless, foggy day,

street light glow and car lights tow their passengers through,

up and down we turn our minds to the day...

a ten o'clock break with coffee and cake releases us free to play,

a noon tune sounds and we race to the place where the

specials are fast paced and we carry our trays to the can,

we press hard on...  all issues are done and we drag ourselves

to the lot across the way where are vehicles stay,

we bank right away, cause Friday's payday and dress for an evening downtown,

the friends that we meet all mix it quite neat casting doubts on a weekend alone,

we toil all our life with minimal strife and retire at the dock of the bay,

our children are grown and occasionally call home,

bringing babies and boxes this noon...

we look back and muse, feeling somewhat confused

at our lives and all we've been through,

we think back a few...  could we start life anew...

if only...  I wonder...  with you?

October 28, 1985

COME AND GONE

our present quietly slips into the past,

into a prevailing world of occasional memories,

poems filed in secret help captive for a password, hold the future,

in huddled silence, we sit just with our thoughts

an intimate release of suppressed emotions

flow into our cold bodies warming us

and we betray our own warmth transmitting

a single desire of sensuality;

for a long time we have been together

have peered into each other's souls

witnessing each other's truths with

their subtle illusions and differences,

conveying an intensity so immense we

become each other's passion and our

essence is engraved on our partner's life force,

an energy field that resists life's corrosive influences;

we are Xerox copies...  exact duplicates

perfect silhouettes against a pale blue sky.

October 24, 1985

HARBINGER

tossed down the streets like a penny against a concrete wall,

I wander past vacant lots, past decaying silence, 

into the city's once alive and pulsating heart;

old timers remain wondering in slumped serenity,

how they have outlived their influence;

vines draped over empty buildings

belong to the new house of Usher;

familiar habits remain...

tobacco stains mark the company store

railroad tracks dead end into a crumpled pile of bricks;

slow men working and traffic signs

twisted around like lovers are

the perpetual hosts for bird now whose

chirping pierces the air like a siren... an eerie sound

juxtaposed against a mute isolation;

the eyes and the ears of the world am I

and their silent currents of time

homespun and natural...

the harbinger of life's continuance.

October 22, 1985

ALWAYS OURS

with scars hidden we return

to one another as if what we

experienced years ago created

a mystical bond or some new

instinct...  a possession from

which neither can escape;

we talk, making love with our thoughts

we smile, making love with our eyes

we hold back the desire to touch...

to hold...  to press together...

taking back what we've forgotten

but what will always be ours.

October 18, 1985