Poem: Stronger than Vows


Stronger than Vows

She stands at the edge of the water.
Her dark hair blows in the wind.
The ceremonies are done and
now she is more than the woman you love.

She is your wife.

How is it that beauty grows
when nothing has changed except a day
and the exchange of vows?
How is it that you feel less alone,
part of something larger than two souls?

It is enough to renew your belief in God.

Birds sing above the beach. Seagulls.
Not music, but music, counterpoint
to the rhythm of the waves.

You take her hand as the tide rises.
Let it come.
Together we are stronger than we deserve,
walking together on the beach.

This is what you remember,
more than music and ritual,
company or canapes, white dresses
and grey vests. All that is captured in pictures
and memories. The stuff of anniversaries
and smiles. You treasure them

almost, but not quite as much as this moment,
she and I on the beach, just us
and the wild blue horizon.

About this poem. 

I am married less than a year now. Unexpected and unsearched for, she brings joy into my life I never expected again. At times, it brings me to tears. The good kind.

The picture was taken on our honeymoon.


Poem: Luminosity 



When I was a child I dreamed of attics and cathedrals in the night.
cobwebs lit by a vague moonlight.
A haunting trumpet calls you to the altar,
to a rusted worn trunk in a distant corner.

Enchanted, enslaved by the wavering music,
I was drawn to those dark corners,
hair raised, fear palpable, a soul torn
between disquiet and desire.

I would wake, shaking, sure I had escaped
with my life.

The dream would not let me go.
that certainty of being the prey of something ancient,
the prey, yet still drawn as if survival would bring treasures untold.
All in the dark.

After you came, the dreams continued, these pastiches from childhood,
with one difference: Luminosity,
a golden candelabra, a certainty of light
surrounding you like a shield.

Still, I wake before opening the last trunk, before reaching to the altar.
I wake, but without the dread, that moment when I am certain
the dark spirits of the night are about to make me their own.
I wake now,

the treasure just out of reach,
your warmth next to me, soft and true,
the dream continued,
the treasure found.

About this poem.

I really did have that dream as a child, over and over.


Poem: A Broken Man’s Love Poem


A Broken Man’s Love Poem

And there I was,
nearly undone,
the inside chipped away,
the weaknesses unseen
even by those who lived there, secure
in the belief that I was immortal,
that bits and pieces could be pulled away forever
without effect.

And there I was,
unaware myself just how close I was
to becoming ruins,
the work so long done coming
undone in almost invisible increments,
waiting, dreading, sure of the final wind.

And there you were,
more aware of my foundations that even I could be,
your gentle hand strong,
your touch, healing,
your words God-breathed, an unexpected,
grace-filled inspiration,
no less than a miracle
in this old man’s life.

About this poem

A love poem. Years into my relationship with the woman I love, I am still astonished and grateful for her presence in my life.

For word nerds who perhaps are not steeped in faith words, inspiration comes from a base word meaning “God Breathed”. Grace means the “unmerited favor of God.”.


Poem: Second Time Around


high heels with vintage vibe.JPG

Second Time Around

She leaves her shoes on the table.
kicked off after a night out,
the red bow reminding you of her dress.

A hint of her perfume remains on the pillow
long after she has left for work.
A reminder. A promise.

Marriage again is an act of faith
in history not repeating itself,
of life after life, of a garden blooming again

where once there was dust.

About this poem

Four months into marriage and it is still a miracle to me. She is a miracle to me.


PS: The painting is “High Heels With a Vintage Vibe” by Mary Ann Duffy Godin. Picture taken at the Southern Vermonts Arts Center.