Perhaps One Day

Perhaps one day, there will be a season
beyond all reason when men and women
alike will gather up their old and worn
similes and metaphors and storied allegories
like hand me down clothes and going
door to door to door provide a smile as broad
as a canyon with eyes deeps as human understanding.

Perhaps one day, we able able to see
the we in you and the me as you
and I draw great and wonderful murals
of picture words and word pictures
across the vast and endless tomorrows.

Perhaps one day, there will be not just
individuals with pens and ink wells
waiting on the next fragment of rhyme
to filter through the ether, but an entire
nation , no world, of poets will arise
to form a tapestry, a rainbow, a bridge
to cross. Come walk with me.

Evening Time

It is as though Titian or Rembrandt

has painted the western horizon

with lazy steel gray clouds

and dusty yellow light

lifted by an ever falling orange orb

The setting comes and brushes

are put away as the canvas 

turns black and empty.



Somewhere in time there is a rhyme 

and a reason but still the spring 

goes and there is little reason

to go on and speculate on the 

cost of errant fish at the 

fishmongers or the cost

of a new sole at the shoe

repair shop. Nothing

matters. It is as if

there were a star filled 

tumbler of milk and

you, having had your 

fill of celestial wonders,

pick up the glass , and in one

swooping motion, upend

the universe onto the newly

waxed linoleum.

Curiosity Box by Peter M. Gordon

Originally posted on Poetry Breakfast:

Curiosity Box
by Peter M. Gordon

Searching far corners at a garage sale
I find an old California job case
Filled with a life’s small souvenirs
With a grey rag I excavate accumulated dust

Unearth a bright green Volkswagen beetle key ring
Thumbnail sized ivory and beige seashells
Brown lions with painted manes lie beside
White plastic lambs and mottled deer

Other buyers flock toward silverware
Grandfather clock and oak rocking chair
I’m drawn to the bright plastic keepsakes
Once so carefully assembled for remembrance

Priced at one dollar; the family happy to get it
I purchase these mementos of the owner’s life
I hope when my children try to increase their bequest
Through re-selling my junk they’ll leave

Some things that inspire wonder
In my grandchildren, or their children
Or at least some stranger
Who will become my ultimate heir.


Peter M. Gordon has worked as a theatre…

View original 74 more words

Poetic Propositions – from NPR

Hello Friends

My world and welcome to it – That was a great show back in the 70s or so – story line revolved around James Thurber played by William Windom – For those of you that were not born then – here is the 1969 NBC Promo for the show

So as I prepare to head off to bed here  momentarily – I am thinking of Shakespeare

“Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”
-William Shakespeare, Macbeth



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