Lillian's Uncle Cippolla (A Villanelle)

Whenever we were together, we were young again
As when we had met six decades ago at Pitt.
Then you up and died and left me.

Once retired, we'd meet each month, come sun or rain.
I at the wheel, and on the passenger side you would sit.
Whenever we were together, we were young again.

How we'd shop – all over the Pennsylvania country,
Giddy like silly school girls through most of it.
Then you up and died and left me.

You taught me about antiques and French porcelain.
I taught you Italian to make up for it.
Whenever we were together, we were young again.

The Italian word cippolla means onion, and it tickled me
That you thought that so unbelievably funny, and yet –
Then you up and died and left me.

“I really really did have an Uncle Cippolla,” you said,
Whenever we were together, we were young again.
Then you up and died and left me.

April Fool and Anticipation, haiku-ish

Two Haiku for Spring

Birds sing in March dawn
Crocuses peek across the lawn
Spring is here at last

White roads, car tires spin 

Snowflakes wild in April wind

Winter’s one last blast

A Haiku For Morning Walk

Morning sun’s warm kiss
It gets no better than this
A walk in summer

I Have Something To Say

Something to say,

It hides away

Cloaked in memories

Too harsh, too cruel

To be given voice..

I have something to say.

Oh, but do not say

Lest you risk

All.

Yet someday, one day, 

Something to say will out.

Then look out.

Then be prepared to let all go – 

memories, bitterness, longing –

Love.

Gazing Upon An Icon Smuggled Out Of Russia

Assignment: “Try your hand at writing a few lines of ekphrastic poetry.”

Byzantine Christ Pantocrater,

Judge of humanity,

I wonder what you have to say 

Of those who snatched you away?

How did they dare?

What's more, why should I care?

Your hair is centrally parted

And you are bearded.

Your eyes, stern and austere,

Pierce my every gaze

And though it is not I the thief,

Somehow I am afraid.

Captive in ornate frame of old,

Your countenance is half-hidden

By metallic screen of gold.

With one hand held forth

And cyrillic scripture in the other,

You seem to be admonishing me.

Did you hang first in the palace of a tsar,

And was his adoration of you used

To expiate sins against a peasantry abused?

Suddenly there abound in my mind

Thoughts of century-old injustices 

Of every kind.

Paradise Lost - Ode to Old Age

Had it
Lost it
Stopped trying to find it.

Had it
Lost it
Overstayed my welcome?

Communion

The veil between our worlds

Does not easily lift

Yet in rare instances

I seem to drift

Between the two

And talk with you.

Then happiness abounds

And inner peace resounds

Only to flee with the dawn

And this world's life

Continues doggedly on.

We Should Have Snapped A Picture

Memories, like photos of old

With age fade and fall apart

Yet within my heart

Pictures of my little ones shine clear.

They looked so dear.

At six, pretty Linda, the alpha;

Sweet Annie, the omega, at two,

And to even the score,

Stevie and Tommy at three and four.

Could any family ask for more?

All four dressed in Sunday best

To grandmother's for dinner they'd go.

Linda, always first inside the door,

Was ever the leader of the rest.

Now in her fifties, she still is so.

"Is there applesauce, Nonna?" they would ask.

Invariably she would answer,“Surely!”

Why, they wanted to know, did her applesauce,

Not from a store-bought jar,

Taste better than ours at home by far?

After dinner, on plush living room carpet

The boys would wrestle, at first in fun.

Their amused grandfather loved to egg them on

Until one would wail; the other claim he'd won

And then the game was done.

Years later, when visiting at breakfast

My own grandchildren would ask,

“Did you buy donuts, Nonna, for us today?" 

Smiling in remembrance of times past, 

“Surely!" I would say.

We should have snapped a picture.