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words weave through moments in time
intersect a heart at play
delirious verbs
wordsmith daze
but with a simple rhyme

oh you word layers
who seemingly know my heart
sing me your words freelance
prescient phrases
portend what comes
together our spirits will dance

First grandchild

Oh little one, your parents mean well but lack the life experience and wisdom to yet be great parents. Give them the space and time to thrive as your mom and dad. In the meantime grandma and grandpa will come save you.

I look heavenward with extended arms as warm raindrops kiss my face, mindful of gratitude within.

Pax et bonum.
Pax in terra.

Herb Alpert has another album out, still going strong at 89 years old. Whenever I hear his music I get lost in treasured memories of pip, who played Alpert’s albums often, and often with me on his lap so he could explain and describe the beauty of the music.

Who now speaks of days gone by
Where time was plentiful
And lazy nights could be had
And simple days were filled with a laugh
The image in the glass
Appears gaunt and grey this morn
Somewhere I've misplaced time
Perhaps I will find
During the hurried day
Precious moments to steal away

My kindergartner announced last night that democrats are 'whiners'
and republicans are 'paranoid'. I first asked him if he understood what the words 'democrats', 'republicans', and
'pararnoid' meant (he is very familiar with 'whiners'.....).

A few months ago I came home late, house dark, everyone asleep. I dropped down onto the couch, exhausted and numbed by the work of
the day. I looked up and saw a new 42 inch Hitachi OLED TV, wired into the home theater sound system that came with the house, not previously used.

In the quiet night
Ethereal humors of the day distill
Vivid images of memories to be
What passed, what learned, what grew this day
Simmer now at day's end
Another day of crushing work
My heart surely skipped significant beats

Four coffees
To mix with textbook
And dim light of the diner
Elevator like music takes me back
Strange that change
Often hinges on chance
Yet here I sit with book in hand
2000 miles away
And the coffee tastes the same
Four coffees
And another night away

In the twilight time
Your weary head on my shoulder
I speak of the piano's tune
The lovely music you hear
Is the rhythm of love that comes from
Deep, deep within
The piano sings reverent cords
Of paternal love
Sweet timbre for your ear

An angry tirade
of wind-blown rain
and lightning now
makes its way
thunderous rain
darkens the day
to remind one of the pain
Existential gain now passed
ceases to attract the way
Shrouded with fear
the relatedness grows faint
no longer should I stay

www.bulwer-lytton.com/2023

www.bulwer-lytton.com/2023

In quiet stillness of sensorial space
Elusive calm whispers to be heard
Enchanting octaves of peace portend
Hearts with thirst of thaw
Where are the saints to take our hands
The rich to shallow mends
In the dark of ignorant light
We search for life’s sweet breath