Author Archives: Ken Greenman

The poet lives or dies by words. But not just any words, not the most convenient words plucked from the air, haphazardly. For since a poem is a picture painted with words, they must be crystalline, making clear for the … Continue reading →

I wonder what Saint Francis did about Assisi squirrels? Did he yell from the monastery porch to scare them off? Did he charge them, gray robes flying behind him, yelling Italian profanities, gesticulating as he came on like some Latin … Continue reading →

The old guy knows how hard it is for him to stretch to trim the craggily nails of his toes. They’re seeming to be so much further away than they ever where just the other day. So, he makes a … Continue reading →

A worn T-shirt, untucked. A bed in the morning, unmade. Sure signs of disheveled minds surrendering to the wearying-wearing-weight of a worrying year whether 10, 41 or 78. It takes work to tuck a shirt. It takes commitment to make … Continue reading →

I’ve grown to love these lazy days of luxuriating under the sheets, of watching, through lace curtain windows, as the sun brightens our world and EZ-Breeze porch, of breakfasts at lunch time, of leisurely drives to our spot on the … Continue reading →

The Cardinal and his Lady sup together every evening, but take their seed from different feeders, as well they should. For they pass their days together in hectic flight, from limb to branch with hawks in sight. Yet each bares … Continue reading →

I’m not a pampered princess rendered rest-less by a pea. But I believe a hospital bed should be as comfy as it can be. Coincidentally, I ” almost-slept” in one last night. A cardiac-false-alarm-fright where all turned out alright. (certainly … Continue reading →

My dad was mad, most of his lives… at governments and at wives but then The Wall fell and he married his forth, ( his last) a good one, for him, and she lasted, and the sun came out and … Continue reading →

He feared the dark depths where monsters lurked. He feared the roiling waves cresting toward the beach. He feared the winds of Autumnal storms. How could any swimmer survive that terrifying chaos? What else could he do but rest on … Continue reading →

The day Jesus woke in His tomb Is like the day my Grand Daughter birthed from her womb. On that day, all the meanings of my years before changed for ever more. All my future days changed in all ways. … Continue reading →