: About Me

Born
When T.S. Eliot
Was sixty-four

St. Mary's
Sixth grade class
Far Rockaway
When he died
In London

Still we breathed in
For a brief time
Some same particle
Of wind swept
Inspiration
Together

Crossing seas
And years
And continents

Pollinating
Almost randomly
This not quite
Fertile field
Readying itself
At any moment
To be sprung

Datta
Dayadhvam
Damyata

Shantih

My passion is ...

growing a flower or plant from seed; singing an Irish ballad; bringing a bit of beauty into this sometimes dark and weary world

I know too much about ...

my foibles and my weaknesses

My parents always told me ...

hold your candel to the darkness

My childhood ambition ...

to feel loved and a little appreciated

My favorite memory ...

summers on the white pristine beaches of Far Rockaway

Why I write ...

I came wired that way

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

I Can Read With My Eyes Closed by Dr. Seuss, Planxty, A Guide For The Perplexed by E.F. Schumacher, poems by Seamus Heaney, Relativity by you-know-who

My first job ...

'towel boy' at Inwood Beach Club (I swear it)

My best moment ...

is yet to come

My inspiration ...

T.S.Eliot, James Joyce, W.B.Yeats, William Faulkner, Billy Shakespeare, Tommy Makem and Christy Moore

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Thanksgiving

13 of 67

Giving And Receiving...Thanks She thanked me sweetly for my gift of time, Said I was kind and thoughtful in her need. I broke her torment with my sweeping rhyme So she could follow - wherever I would lead. Why do I feel receiving has to hurt, And not be easy or without great cost? Or think intention must in turn pervert The heart that fills itself by what it’s lost? If fearless dreams could make this dark world whole, I would delight to see her flying free. I’d sing out coyly to her soaring soul, Watch her alight, and stay awhile with me.

More..

• Helium Charter Member