About My Poetry

Why so much romantic poetry? Well, what else but in having been blessed with the acquaintance of some fair ladies, of course. But also sensing a need, I suppose, over the last fifteen years...some of it published and for whatever myriad of reasons...I have managed to write much of the most beautiful poetry
I have ever read.

And this was before, in early April of 2012, I first saw Francesca, somehow by now the inspiration--if not altogether effortlessly, at least nearly so!--for well over two hundred-and-fifty original poems. And many more, Lord willing, to come!--poems of course that will continue to be seen here in the weeks and months ahead.

Is there other poetry still to be written, as good or better? With subjects and themes endless as all creation, the answer is clearly 'yes'--and having written something like four hundred already, I, for one, will continue giving it a try.  

As for other young guys in the City of Brotherly Love, of course it was the ladies to whom, if you will, 'me first talked pretty', growing up in Philadelphia. My background includes a lovely and formidable ex-wife, a younger brother and two nephews; mid-management, marketing and sales positions as well as excelling in and at times perhaps surviving an outside job involving finding and bringing back, on my own, the cars and sometimes pickup trucks of those who had stopped repaying their loans (a job in which I was rated, as Sovran Bank’s report still shows, 'extremely reliable under pressure'), this in central Virginia...

Also a mother, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister, and grand-daughter and great-grand-daughter of Church of Scotland ministers--a scholarly lady who was also called in college 'a brunette Grace Kelly', which her wedding picture still explains. A brilliant couple, my parents, though divorced when I was six, as my father went off to serve, ultimately as a presidential press officer, in the Civil Rights struggle.

Surviving, yes. Two years ago, I was knocked several dozen feet through the air by a car running a red light, my forehead shattering the windshield (I saw the photo later). But someone had cried "Look out" and I recall in the last split-second or two before impact unweighting, my hands antennae now stretched out in the dark, possibly helping spare me, and by extension a wonderful lady named Carmen, further...

Collateral damage, shall we say….and take it from me, best to be careful when outweighed by three thousand pounds. In closing, let me repeat: I have written a great portion of the most beautiful poetry I have ever read. If the standards of my alma mater, an elite Eastern college, do not persuade...if the fact that it is only the utterly lovely Francesca Neri, and she indeed alone, who can claim to be the true blank, as Shakespeare wrote, of my eye--if this does not convince either, then all the more reason, no doubt, to stay tuned and see for yourself.