While I could not cry in front of you,
I cried once for you – in front of strangers.
But then again it could have just been
the vodka, or life’s regrets – perhaps
it was only allergies that caused
such a commotion of compulsion.
Who knows what God’s thinking in
these rare moments of humility.
I suppose we all must pay our dues
for living and dying and breathing
and trying. Who knows but God,
the devil and that damn song
that keeps playing in my head?

Sitting at Powell’s

I sit in this bookstore
where I feel detached
from the young and
too young to be the old.
Miles away, memories
come in with the fog
and rest their toes at
the edge of the water.
The only promise of life
is the sound of fury
from beyond what
only the lost can see.
I can only hope my
ghost is always there,
walking the shoreline
and dreaming, neither
young nor old, but
timeless in this melody
that never leaves us.

O’ Majestic Tree

There was a big old tree in the front yard where I grew up. From as early as I can remember I climbed that tree and could spend hours up there just watching the happenings around me. From the stray cats to the kids out playing and the cars going by, I sat, unknown to anyone, observing our little piece of earth. A thousand stories played out in my head that are all now mostly forgotten. That tree, along with my buried pets, was the toughest thing to leave when my parents sold the place. I don’t know if it’s normal to miss a tree, but my dear friend, I do miss you. 

Here is one of my earliest poems – as I was just getting started writing (so many years ago).  

O’ Majestic Tree

With your arms held high, you come so close to reaching the sky. And with each season, you carry many colors in your embrace, as the grass below admires your grace. The wandering birds have a home in you, while your blanket of leaves catch the morning dew. And when I get lonely, I climb up your sturdy body, and you comfort me. How dear you are to my heart, O’ Majestic Tree. 

O' Majestic Tree
Here I am with my boys on moving day – it was the last time to climb the tree.

Life’s Aftermath


Along God’s path
and nature’s wrath,
I follow Faith
in life’s aftermath.

On the way I find
lost pieces of my mind,
fabrics of memories and
fragments of time,
where tears water the
destroyed gardens,
uprooted in their prime,
too early to consider
rebirth, still unable to
master peace of mind.

Along God’s path
and nature’s wrath,
I follow Faith
in life’s aftermath.

Just Not Today 

(To my son, Trey Biddy)

Holding you for the first time, I knew one day I’d have to let you go – but just not today.

When you took your fist steps, I knew they were the first of many that would one day lead you down your own path – but just not today.

Your first sleepover that I wasn’t called to pick you up in the middle of the night, I knew you would one day find your independence – just not today.

Delivering you to school on your first day in a back pack almost bigger than you and full of anything you would need to survive, I knew one day you would need your friends more than I – just not today.

With every milestone I knew the day was coming, when you would take a journey carved by many tears and smiles from those who love you most, and I would have to watch you go – just not today.

I knew there would come a day that I would face a special kind of storm that I would want to hold you back just one more time, to keep you here under my diligent watch and protection a little longer – and we both know that day is just not today.