Day 14: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s note: I’m not sure why I was thinking of the giant trees in our front yard — maybe it is the dangling branches that have me worried. But, in the spring, our neighbor comes and taps them, and then we make syrup. It had me wondering from the tree’s perspective. So, a Haiku for you.)

In spring, when trees cry,
we collect tears as sweetness:
dripping on our tongue

Listen to the podcast poem.

Peace (in the flow),

Day 13: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s note: I feel a bit like I am running out of steam. 30 days is beginning to take its toll. So, I looked around our house and tried to focus on something simple for this poem. What I found was a bench piled high with books for the kids — picture books, chapter books, comics, graphic novels, sports books, etc. So, a poem to the pile!)

There’s no madness to this mess —
it’s just a mess of stories
that never rests —
nor do we want it to
even as the stack teeters precariously
under the weight of those words and stories
that provide buried treasure there
for even the most intrepid explorer.

Listen to the podcast poem

Peace (in the verse),


The Game: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s note:  I used to live for Sundays in football season, just to watch the New York Giants. There were good years. There were bad years. And at night, I would dream in football plays — usually the botched ones. Thankfully, I have grown out of that phase. But I still love the Giants and catch a bit when I can. It’s just not the same.)

I used to dream in football back when I was fan
so that I could redraw the plays the way they should have been played
and not how they came out on the field
It is amazing how invested I could become
from my living room chair, with a beer can in my hand,
and my feet nowhere near the green grass.
And at night, I was the coach,
picking apart the film.
I still watch, but I am not the same;
Now, I wake up at night with worries of my family
or my classroom
my students
or my writing.
The game has changed in ways that I cannot even begin to fathom.

Listen to the podcast poem.

Peace (on the field),

Composing: A visual poem

Take a word. Toss it into this Williams Words generator. Out comes a visual poem. Of sorts. Here is mine, using the word “composing” as the generator text. I am even going to say, this is one of my 30Poems 30Days poems, as a way to honor the non-traditional poet.

Peace (in the visual),

Day 11: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s Note: I have three boys. My mom passed away as the second one was nearing birth, so she knew our first, knew of the second but never of the third. I wonder what she would have thought about them and think about how she would have loved to be with them. A poem of memory, loss and celebration.)

How much life we have lived without my mother to see it;
she who died before the second one was born
and never even knew that a third one was destined
and only held onto the first one with such fierce love
that her echoes still reverberate around us.

Listen to the podcast poem.

Peace (in the 30 days),

Day 10: A Double Dose of Poetry for 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s note: Today, I have two poems on tap for my 30Poems 30 Days adventure. The first is inspired by my older boys playing baseball. They’ve been playing since spring and they continue to play in a large pick-up game three times a week — although now, with the time change, it is down to just Saturday mornings. The poem came as I watched dusk descend on them one night. The second is a request from Gail D. to make a poem with my comic, Boolean Squared, and so what came out was a little rant about kids being locked into standardized education.)

The boys are playing baseball with the Sun again;
the daylight sits, glove ready, on the horizon
as the kids all spill out onto the field after school,
whistling some summer tune
even as the leaves tumble to the ground
as a mattress for winter.
Still, they smack the ball around and shout at the sun
to stay up and be ready and to not give in to the shadows
which creep into the game like a grumpy umpire shouting:
“You’re out!”

Listen to the podcast poem.

And now, Boolean Squared poetry.

Peace (in the poems),


Day Nine: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s Note: I wrote this the other day, when the switching of the clocks wreaked some havoc on me.)

I’ll just put this extra hour in my pocket
for some day when I really need it —
when I am on the run with time flying by
as the list of things-to-do grows longer
than the clock itself

I’ll fold up this the hour and tuck it inside my wallet
next to the expired credit cards and unintelligible phone numbers,
knowing that it is there for me like some golden drachma
to be slipped inside the Time Machine

You’d know what I’ll do with this hour?
I’ll kick back with it, relax and try not to think of next year’s Spring
when the world takes back its loan
and pushes me behind once again.

Listen to the podcast of the poem.

Peace (in the time),

Day Seven: 30Poems 30Days

(Poet’s note: This is a love poem to my wife.)

I could listen to your tea kettle for hours,
just to hear the way your day will begin
with hot liquids in a cup and thoughts moving through you
as you stand before the steamed up mirror,
brushing your hair in rhythm to my heartbeat.

Listen to the poem as a podcast

Peace (in the love),

Day Six: 30poems 30days

(Poet’s note: I was touching the pad of my iTouch the other day and suddenly had this wave of memories of buying vinyl as a kid. Thus, this poem)

Remember when:
you’d sit around on the floor
with the album cover open on your outstretched legs,
reading everything from liner notes to lyrics
and experiencing the music, visually;
or when the songs on the eight track player would spill over
into the next one like some unexpected
mash-up with overlapping beats and voices
creeping around like dust in the attic;
or how you had to carve up your mother’s scotch tape
in order to sticky-fix the cassette that came un-spooled in your lap
while the cat played with it from down below?
Now, you tap your fingers on the screen
in order to access the music from some far-away database
in such a way that no effort is required
other than the listening,
and the cat is nowhere to be found but in the past.

Listen to the podcast poem

Peace (in the past),


Day Five 2: 30poems 30days

Poet’s note: one thing about this challenge is that I can create poems at any time and get them into the mix. A friend asked if I would write an elegy for the Yankees when they lost to his beloved Phillies. Well, we know how that turned out. So here is my elegy to the Phillies (a worthy team but not good enough this year).

Elegy for the Phillies

I’m sorry to say
you have to go home
and ride the wave of defeat for a year

We’ll sing your praises anyway
as the worthy opponent who swung for the fence
but missed by an inch

We’ll swallow up the cheers of the crowd
and dance among the littered
hot dog wrappers and confetti

and channel our days on the field
in fake pinstripes
when the world stood still to watch

every last swing …

Listen to the podcast poem

Peace (in baseballville),