I closed the cover of a book, just read;
A book of poetry, whose thoughts had touched
The sanctum sanctorum of my being.
I sat in silence pondering the depth
...
How deep our memories lie,
Beneath the silt and sediment of mind,
Deposited by the turbid stream of life.
Each succeeding springtime thaw swells
...
I stand In the shadows of thought,
Devoid of the art of thinking;
Assembling meaningless words
In rows of senseless creation.
...
Fashioned out of a parkish setting is a small,
commemorative garden, dedicated in memoriam
to the short-lived life of a beloved child.
A retreat, created by her parents who believe
...
There lived a man of gentle heart and soul,
Who lead a life of modest wants and cares.
There seemed to be a commonality
With all of human kind but, deep beneath
...
Thoughts we create are the seeds that will grow.
Mind is the plot we prepare to receive.
Life is the soil into which we must sow.
...
I leapt from the precipice of reason into the supernal abyss of faith.
Uprising on the winds of mystical contemplation,
Discharging all senses and actions of thought,
I came into a darkness, a darkness that is beyond light,
...
Manila Bay, Philippines 1944.
'Object in the water dead
Ahead, Sir, ' came the bow-watch
...
For Ryan, My Grandson.
My first encounter with him was when we were left
...