Behind The Waterfall and More

About the Book

Four of My Poems What if Today Was the Day? What if today was the day? You woke up to no more war. You woke up to peace and harmony, The world over; What if today was the day? When teen-age gangs put down All of their weapons; When on this day they learned to Live together. When words like crime didn’t exist anymore. What if today was the day? When politicians really work for people; When what they promised to get elected Was really what they meant. What if today was the day? That no-one would never live in poverty again. If all the public utilities weren’t allowed to Price gouge merely for profit; What if today was the day? When the air was cleaner The grass was greener, That the big companies weren’t allowed To pollute anymore, What if today was the day? Oh Yes! What if today was that day? Memories of the Piano Man Wrinkled fingers softly, caressing the black and whites. Two tired eyes peering over each note just right. Reminiscing with memories, now long gone past, Of old words that were written with great care. Words now fading upon yellowed paper, From many years of continued use; Dusty tip glass half empty now sitting Atop the old upright in need of tuning; The aroma of old smoke and stale ale, A small spittoon sitting against the foot rail; Wood floor covered with sawdust, and mixed With peanut shells and cigarette papers abound. The ambience of this place is still fresh in my mind. For that piano man was I. Now that you’re gone My eyes have been seeking out your beauty But they seem to have been plucked out. My fingers reached out to caress you But they now have been burnt. My dreams have longed for you But they also seem to be blank. My mind keeps searching for you but All memories of you have been erased. My body seems to still be on fire, Yet the flames seemed to have flickered out. The picture frame on my mantel is Now darkened where your picture use to be. The side of the bed where you slept, Has now become barren and cold; The clothes in your closet don’t Seem to be there. The aromatic perfume that trailed you always, Also seems to be gone. All of what was part of you for some reason Just simply isn’t here anymore. Ever since you’ve been gone my love, My life and surroundings are in total despair. Purgatory Dance The full moon was throwing shadows that, Seemed to dance across the vast horizon; On this night, called the night of the purgatory dance; For when you dance with the devil he wants his due. It seems years ago he filled a request for you. You then promised to give him your soul. He’s back now to reel you in. For now his bidding is due. The devil looks at his choice prospects, And tells you, of the minion for this night; She is vibrant, with fiery red hair, enticing smile With body to match, To the master she will be a very rewarding catch. Oh yes! This debt that is due seems like it will be fun. You will take it on with vigor and vim. If you play your cards right you’ll ultimately win. The specialty wine is chilled, and the music is soft. The house lights are dim, the purgatory dance shall begin. The dance hall smells of burning jasmine, as the candles, Are now lit; You take your prey to the dance floor for all others to see. Oh! What a night this is going to be. This night seems like all the others in the past, But this night will be special, this one is for you. Her fragrance mixed with the odors of jasmine fills The air and your nostrils as you breathe. Her name is élan a, woman of ill repute. Her body melts with yours. You feel you have

About the Author

I was born and raised in Brooklyn, N.Y 10/23/1945. I went to high school in Manhattan and hung out in Greenwich Village. Where I started my poetry writing in the café Wha on Bleeker Street, I stopped writing and in the mid nineties one of my younger brothers passed away and I started writing again. I belong to various poetry clubs like The Poets Workshop, Shadow Poetry Also Poetry.Com. I write from my experiences and others I write from my imagination. I write about family and friends also for friends. I also enjoy writing on the dark side of poetry.