I am a 71 year old, retired, police and fire dispatcher for the city of San Francisco. I have known from adolescence that I am a poet, but I largely put off writing poetry until I felt compelled by circumstances This moment of recognition was a terrible way to fall awake. I started writing seriously, if sporadically, in 2007. The purpose of building a web site for the poetry is not to promote it, but to acknowledge it by preserving it.
This is a poem about the human condition. It channels the ghost of Emily Dickinson. Unfortunately, this may well be my greatest poem, the one that lives on after I have passed. * Woeful be the misbegotten who have loved us in vain. Wherever can they go? There is no time to ever think of … More Woe
While I am primarily a narrative poet, I wanted a version of this poem that was lyric poetry. I might well be able to publish this version. * Dedicated to Dr. Stephen Gould And For Alla Gallagher * * The violin case open in front of him is empty of alms. Unlike others here in the station, … More The Violinist, 2nd Iteration
I encountered two poems in college that have haunted me my entire life. Years ago, I wrote “Pax Aeterna,” my response to Sylvia Plath’s masterpiece, “Mystic.” I have finally written my response to the masterpiece by Rainer Maria Rilke, “Going Blind.” * The violinist was a young black man I continually encountered at Civic Center … More The Violinist, 1st Iteration
I wanted to write a response to the masterpiece by Yeats, “The Wild Swans at Coole.” Nonetheless, my style owes more to Gerard Manley Hopkins. This is one of my best poems. * Dedicated to William Butler Yeats And For Alla Gallagher * My fourth retreat is a nest of old memories. I search for … More The Missing Peace
* As I started writing this poem, I did not believe it was any good. In fact, I thought it was one of the worst things to come from my pen. It certainly is unusual. But as I persisted, I gradually discerned this piece was the opposite of what I perceived initially. I now think … More The Missing Piece: Beginning, Finale and Codas
Months have passed since your passing. As I decide to write this poem, Through the window, I finally see A hummingbird sip from the nectar In Thumbelina’s cup, Wired to a tip of the grate. A good omen, this! I am grateful. * * While the hospital was a hell for you, Hospice was not. Nonetheless, Toward the … More Forever
As I reached for a door, about to leave the ward, The words of his distress pierced my hearing, On their way to a stab of my heart. “I can’t understand why I can’t go home with you.” I turned to catch the look on his face. * I patiently reiterated the truths of our … More Together
Stanza 8 is new. * Dedicated to my beloved husband, Floyd Russell Taylor * Once again, upon a weekend time, we shook off the city. As always, by Friday, it felt like a fur drenched in wet. At first, we motored through the fog, then, across the Golden Gate And into the sun, the fun … More Mary’s Garden/3rd Iteration
I did not succeed in drafting a second, much more succinct version of this poem. But this may be better than the original. Let me highlight the most significant changes: Stanza 2 “It was fitting that we saw the pollinator’s first, The givers, the gifters of gardens.” Stanza 4 I wanted a succinct version of the … More Mary’s Garden/2nd Iteration
Dedicated to my beloved husband, Floyd Russell Taylor Once again, upon a weekend time, we shook off the city.As always, by Friday, it felt like a fur drenched in wet.At first, we motored through the fog, then, across the Golden GateAnd into the sun, the fun of Sonoma.Our rental car conveyed our escapeTo the haven-heaven … More Mary’s Garden
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