This summer has been a time of massive change in my psyche. In May I had a hip operation followed by three weeks convalescence in that artists’ paradise, Collioure, on the Mediterranean. Barely recovered, I lost my two oldest friends within quick succession. One I’d known for 62 years and the other for 67 years. It is hard to express what this means. Not only am I the patriarch of my family but last man standing among my brotherhood of male friends developed through my life.

Writing poetry is a way to contain and embrace the pain of loss. Over this same period I have published two collections of poetry: Short Bitter Sweet and Inside Out. They can be purchased in paperback or downloaded as ebooks on Amazon. Here’s a poem from Inside Out:

His Last Great Adventure (1944 – 2025)

I dissolve into

Tearful keening chaos

As the words  

Project from the screen 

His Last Great Adventure

A kaleidoscope of sparks

Flicker

In the visceral darkness

Each fiery mote showcasing

A memory 

Of his alchemy in

Transforming   

The everyday  

Into exotic possibility 

For sixty seven years

He was

An ethereal brother 

Imbuing in me

The urge to laugh at life

Regardless 

So

Though much of me is submerged 

In sorrow

The him that lives in me 

Celebrates wildly 

As we always knew it would