One Last Adventure

Seriously, did you really think the Beach Boy didn’t have one last adventure in him? Today, I am flying to the Dominican Republic for a three month writing retreat/vacation.

Question: Who wrote the following? A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.

The first week, I will be staying at exclusive 7,000 acre resort Casa de Campo. It is a great golfing resort. President Bill Clinton just stayed there in July. The resort’s theatre was opened with an exclusive concert by with performers Frank Sinatra , Buddy Rich, Heart. and Santana (Aug 20, 1982).

On my last vacation I chased whales. The itinerary for this trip begins with the exploration of the 100,000 year old Las Maravillas Caves, where long before Chistopher Columbus arrived, the Taino Indians left pictographs on the walls.

Altos de Chavón is a replica 16th century Mediterrean village which serves as a cultural center for students, tourists, and artists from around the world. St. Stanislaus church is a stone building in the center of the village. Consecrated in 1979, Pope John Paul II sent the ashes of Poland’s patron saint, St. Stanislaus, and a hand-carved statue from Krakow to commemorate the church’s inauguration.

Of course, I will be spending time with my goddaughter Dibel (a.k.a. Lily) and so many friends.

I will stick to my regular blogging schedule Monday and Thursday (comment closed)

Answer: Charlie Chaplin wrote these words in his diary.

A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure.

Sounds like anyone you know?

soliloquy

soliloquy

my baritone heart
sings on a lonely stage
before empty seats

longing to be a duet
he dreams
of your soprano heart
here alongside of me

without you
a crowded auditorium
appears barren
as the insistent echo
of my baritone heart
rings in hollow halls

he croons a ballad
a song meant for two
a song unrequited
a soliloquy
he composed
just for you


our little secret

our little secret

My love
everyone wants to know
our little secret
can’t they see
you live in my poetry
For every beautiful word
every little inflection
is an alluring reflection
of you
For I never seek inspiration
in the birds or bees
or classic Greek tragedies
This poet writes
by inclination
Don’t tell anyone
of this little revelation
there’s no denying that it’s true
our little secret
My heart beats metaphors
just for you

bubbles of love

I would like to dedicate this to my muse, if I had one, but I don’t.  So, I won’t.   (Wink Wink)

bubbles of love

Soaking in an effervescent tub
of your warm poetry
tiny inspirations
burst all around me
Sparkling suds of passion
cleanse my soul
of the unsightly stains
of dirty lovers
and tainted memories
For you are the nymphet
of my passions
a sensual siren of sonnets
The warm bath
that never goes cold
Now I find myself
submerged in your verses
blissfully drowning
in the fountain
of your never ending
bubbles of love

denial

denial

When I vow I will stop thinking of her
it’s because I can’t stop
When I say she is forgotten
the truth is, she is not
Look at me denying I am in denial
and I don’t know where to start
Perhaps I can deceive my friends
but I will never fool my heart
My brain continues to remember
what my heart refuses to forget
so I’ll continue to pretend
I’m not haunted
by the girl I haven’t met

feathers

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feathers

.

We are feathers
floating aimlessly
on the whim of destiny’s breeze
fated to glide on uncontrollable
currents of air
that propel us as they please

Perhaps one day
fate will let a random wind
take me where I never flew
blowing me in the direction
that eventually leads me
closer to you