William Waterway Poems

when it comes to love
I often reflect on Rumi’s love poem:

“The minute I heard my first love story,
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From padded window seat inside café
cup of tea warms my hands
cold winds shuffle sidewalk leaves
Two tables away sit two men
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The word went out - “For $75 you can take a workshop with Billy.”

High Noon, fifteen of us gather at a table beneath a shade tree near the sea.
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The ancient room is austere—walls of faded white paint
floors of variable width lumber—milled locally—years of wear
a long pine table hosts stained patina of many generations
ladder-backed chairs surround—a few spares on the side
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From whence rain sprung
tis a mystery
how it flows through all life
from beginning of eternity
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one day
of new snow
a lone gray-brown dove
swoops in for a swallow
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my eyes devour you – you tease my salivating tongue as it rolls
to fathom your form – the flow of juices anticipate your bitter, your sweet, your sour, your salty, your unami

I contemplate a chew on you
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When it comes to football
it's all about the ball
it's got nothing to do with skill
or giving our fans a thrill
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Woe, woe, woe, is me
my life such a tragedy
Woe, woe, woe is me
such is my sad, sad history
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Yes, we both know, my love
true love is elusive in life's journey
As we seek the ethereal with senses material
we are often fraught with doubt as we fill our hearts
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