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.
Dedicated In Pectore I sit on the bench behind them. They are a family of four. The husband throws a ball to his wife As gently as he can. Their girl and boy run circles Between them Trying to intercept it. They rarely do. I watch the wife. They are Muslim: … More Jefferson Square
In a courtyard lit by the sun, Greco-Roman body parts Are pedestaled around a tiled pool. Here, the coiffed head of a woman, There, a lithe leg or muscled arm, And everywhere, torsos of either sex. Beneath a severed wing, We stand at the entrance facing them, As if before dismemberment Our bodies too were … More The Docents
In Memory, Toni Hardley The pianist has taken all her bows. In search of their refreshment, The cognoscenti have left the hall. Few of us remain at intermission. Two stage hands wearing tuxedos: One folds the giant ebony wing Into its carapace, While the other lovingly lids the ivory. An honor guard, … More Pianissimo
A Meditation Listen, for a gong has been struck. Gather an offering of lilies and jasmine, For this is a summons: Obey. Enter a circular, white-walled room. Dew makes a star on the occulus above, The cloudless sky beyond, an even hue. Sit on the ebony floor and be still. Behold, on … More Gamelan II
A Meditation Listen, for a gong has been struck. Gather an offering of lilies and jasmine, For this is a summons: Obey. Enter a circular, white-walled room. Dew makes a star on the oculus above, The cloudless sky beyond, an even hue. Sit on the ebony floor and be still. Behold, on … More Gamelan I
The D. H. Lawrence Memorial Shrine Dedicated To F. R. Taylor Viewed from a distance, It appears to be a gatehouse Flanked by trees Supporting heaven. Reverently, I climb the gravel path To Frieda’s grave, Then enter the portal Beyond it. His ashes are interred Within a white-washed cell. Exhibited on the wall, … More The Shrine At Taos
I Epithet For Anna Marie White She has turned her back to us To kiss the earth. Yet something of her nimbus And her shadow Stays with us as a blessing And a curse. “Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.” 1990 II To love is to … More Poems of Farewell
First Poems I Each room melts, And fades into another. They are pages of an album In which pictures are Too many And too old. 1969 II Sun and moon will stare Upon the walls until They crumble to the floor. More cobweb fingers Blindfold every window, And they seal shut each … More The Abandoned House
This is a work in progress. Two of three parts have been completed. Prelude, Poem, Postlude For L. T. “O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing-masters of my soul.” (“Sailing To Byzantium,” … More The Gate
“The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed.” From “God’s Grandeur” By Gerard Manley Hopkins * I am at an age to be at odds. The lines in my books look dense, … More Come Away, Quietly
stevengoldenpoetry 