“Memories of old, Nostalgic reminiscence, Beautiful flashbacks”

HOUR FIVE In my yesteryears memories, I see my ancestral home- an adjunct to my life a home painted with not just colors- but celebrations of life I peeked into the rasoi, a roshandaan- a quaint window with molds and webs greeted nostalgia and paper…

Nostalgia can be such a beautiful waste of time when you think back on the small, unimportant things Past glories fade into nothingness Past defeats still sting though perhaps not as much The ritual of buying a can of coffee from the vending machine on…

This is not a love poem to a person. I have left many of them behind, and none of them have chosen to stowaway in my heart or mind or otherwise to be remembered. This is not a love poem to the home I left…

Full “super” moon illuminated my walk to the beach Mid-August night Is a gentle reminder of summer’s end. People on porches, shadowed by candles, talk, banter, guffaw, whisper, share libations and points of view… “Israel and Palestine…” “When I was in Ireland..” “Remember the time…”…