Caffeinated Romance

I let this one sneak through without mentioning it.

Caffeinated Romance: lyrics and poems for everyday people who fall in and out of love is available on amazon for your kindle. CLICK HERE


It will be available other places soon and yes even physical copies.


This book of poems  isn't for everyone, just those who have ever loved or longed to love. You'll find lyrics and poems for everyday people. The dramatic and emotional mixed with the lighthearted and fun. Caffeinated Romance is the perfect companion to a cup of coffee, a window seat or a roaring fire on a raining day.

they and me can again be We

They can gawk.

They can mock.

They can swear,

and blame,

and fail to understand.

They can fear.

They can demonize.

They can protect what they know.

They can try to keep their status quo, 

with ignorance or denial.

They can rouse their forces,

weaponized beyond proportion.

They can spray the eyes or pull the hair 

of mothers or daughters or elders,

who will no longer sit.

They can crack the heads of unarmed soldiers 

who, for a decade risked their lives in far-off lands 

to preserve the promise of days like these.

They can speak from two sides, 

pretending they don’t betray the constitution,

or morality, or commonsense.

They can tear down tents, disperse crowds 

and destroy property of a free people.

They can invoke the cry of safety

to trump any law.

They can herd the young and old like cattle,

or throw men over barricades, 

like worn-out mattresses. 

They can disinfect parks sullied by occupation,

but not the hearts of an educated nation. 

They can say they'll fix the wrongs.

They can bargain for more time,

in hopes bygones will be forgot.

They will not.

They can try to silence what's already been heard.

They can try to obfuscate what's already been seen.

They can try to blame the odor on others, 

like children who hide the stink.

They can try to ignore the taste of justice 

that brews in cafés and cafeterias and classrooms 

and the places where debate is still safe and welcome.

They can feel satisfied when streets are cleared 

and they think things return to normal.

They can throw money at any problem,

because it is easier to find than good judgement. 

They could find a cure in the sea of faces,

that hold the common man, woman and child,

doing uncommon things for the good of each other.

Then they, and me,

can again, be we.

And we, can overcome anything.

Writing Yet?

With October on the horizon many writers realize there’s less than 100 days left in the year. Maybe they better get started on something. Starting something is great. Finishing is better.

If you’ve got a writing goal make a clear distinction between your goals and your wishes. You don't want to catch wish-itis. Goals are concrete. They are specific, motivating, attainable, relevant and time based. Candidly, I think potentially unattainable is fine. I prefer the people who are over ambitious to those who are underwhelmed. Their hopes and dreams may end in disappointment, but at least they didn’t start that way. When you’re committed you can achieve more than you think.

Maybe you’re a procrastinator. That’s okay, but right now you need to write now. So schedule your procrastination time for later. Don’t wait for inspiration. Inspiration doesn't sit around all day hoping to be found. It does its thing with or without you. It doesn’t really care and it’s not thinking about you so stop wasting your time. If you should happen to meet, give it a happy hug like a little seen friend and keep writing.

To me, a writer without the means to write is like a non-writer with the means. So do whatever gyrations you need to do to before you write, then you’ve got to write. Until then, you're just thinking. Thinkers are great, but they don’t get things done. Doers get things done. 

Some writers become overwhelmed with ideas. Blessed with the curse of imagination they let them float by like dandelion seeds. Pluck a few ideas that strike you and plant them on the page or bury them in your notebook. After a week, see what blooms then use all your resources to nurture that. Let everything else become noise.

Still not writing? Try this formula: 

Day 1 - Write something.

Day 2 - Write more. 

Day 3 - Write better. 

Repeat.

Eschew the pseudo experts who tell you how to create. You know how. Now, you must do. 

Write often or little, 

Because you can 

Or because you must.

Write of silly things that move the world.

Or serious things that must be stopped.

Write to educate and entertain

Others or yourself.

Write for the pride that comes with seeing

Your writing on another’s shelf.

Write to record your feelings, thoughts or fears.

Write in a way that brings the stoics to tears.

Write because your gifted 

And you’ve a perspective to share.

Write the things that others would never dare.

Write. You need no more excuses.

Always. But Sometimes, Never.

This one came to me fairly quickly as part of another project I'm working on:

Always is forever, 

and most things seldom are. 

Never is not ever, 

and that goes a bit too far.

Sometimes rests between the two, 

with honesty and moderation. 

But sometimes lacks the punch for you, 

and reeks of hesitation.

Friday Distraction

I joined a poetry group on LinkedIn of all places and answered the challenge to share a poem about attraction without using the word. Here's what I came up with.


Friday Distraction 

She pulls you toward her,
Like north to south.
She speaks with her eyes,
And blots her mouth.

She clears her throat
In a subtle way
As the waiter takes
The plates away.

You suggest dessert
Or just peruse the list.
Making mental note of the time,
And the several trains you’ve missed.

She beams at the choices
Of chocolates and liqueur,
Of cakes and cobblers
And other treats that blur.

She is mesmerizing,
Alluring, a pleasant distraction.
Then she startles you
With her sudden reaction.

“None for me.
Too rich, too sweet, too soon”
You nod your clouded head,
Still floating like a ballon.

A peck goodnight
Across the cheek.
Your legs still tremble
As you try to speak.

She hushes you,
Gives a wave,
And departs across the street.
Red heat flushes through,
But you did not cave,
And kept it all discrete.


You can read other poems by visiting Wooing of the Mind. Throw me a challenge and let's see what I can come up with.

Wednesday Night Poetry

It's a Wednesday night, so why not use that as an excuse to share some poetry. This one is titled, "Where are the Poets?" from my Wooing of the Mind Collection.


Where are the Poets?

Where are the poets, the dancers
the dreamers who make things come true?
Where are the leaders, and believers
and the folks who know what to do?

Why are there quarrels
and debate
over things of nonsense
rooted in nothing but hate?

Why are there cracks in solemn foundations,
born forth from greed?
They sprout and spread persistently
like rats, or lice or weeds.

What are the lyrics
that makes a nation pause?
What notes must be strung together
for each of us to admit our flaws?

Where are the engineers, the doctors,
the carpenters with wood?
There are bridges to be built,
and underprivileged to be understood.

Call out the peacemakers
armed with diplomacy and grit.
Silence those who wage foolish war
with contracted guards, and arguments unfit.

Paint the future, sketch a dream,
sing out in fervent praise!
For the end is nowhere close to us,
so do not countdown the days.

We enjoy the setting sun,
and provide lights to darkened skies
so dare not fear for us,
tomorrow with certainty, we will again arise.