This poem is for all those who find this life a trial. Keep on keeping on, as someone once remarked.

Buried in the Sunlight

Eleanor played the pipes as a piper should,

flying light with grace and flair and swing,

with airs like a wind band in the deep greenwood:

dancing her careless heart towards an Appalachian spring.

All who knew her, all for whom her life seemed bles...

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In the disturbed world of today, I believe we must look to the tragedies of the past for guidance into the future. This piece is based on one of my first efforts, now many years ago.

The City of God

“It stands on a hill,” you say,

"a golden fortress, buttress to our faith,

a Heavenly Jerusalem to Rome's decay”.

Such piety is useful

to commanders of the expendable,

bu...

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