Wednesday, April 30, 2014


In Paragonia, we’ve transcended war,
And every sort of violence we abhor,
Since kindness is our ruling principle,
The only way to live a life that’s full.

Most say it’s human nature to compete:
“Survival of the fittest!” they repeat;
Yet even Darwin in his later years
Found that cooperative behavior clears
Us of the imperative to dominate:
Compassion being the antidote to hate.

Let Paragonia be a tool we use,
A whetstone sharpening minds that then may choose
The saner way that wisdom recommends:
A love that fear and rivalry transcends.


Tuesday, April 29, 2014


     A Global Folly Culture now prevails
     of reckless waste and profligate abuse,
     while mankind’s prospect of survival pales
     unless our consciousness grows less obtuse.

     With each one seeking his own benefit,
     ignoring what is best for the common good,
     what for the future’s sake is requisite,
     we fail to make decisions that we should.

     A Global Wisdom Culture, though, would aim
     above all at sustainability,
     inculcating us devoutly to proclaim
     a prosperous future of great constancy.

          It thus remains for us to realize
          how an adolescent species can grow wise.


Monday, April 28, 2014


            Do unto others as you’d have them do,
            Were you in their predicament, to you.


Sunday, April 27, 2014


        Then is it true, the wonder of our age,
        Of playwrights nearest to divinity
        Who conjured spectacles upon our stage
        Destined to live through all eternity
        Is dead?  O, woe betide all who survive,
        Especially us players here bereft,
        Who now conjointly must with wit contrive
        A play like his, as cunning and as deft.
        We have no script to con and yet today
        The Globe itself is destined to be packed;
        The world entire awaits his latest play
        And we have none, not e’en a single act!
             Yet let us pray to summon up his Muse,
             For with her aid, we surely shall not lose.


Saturday, April 26, 2014


        If for no other reason, using rhyme
        In verse points me to the fortuitous,
        As unanticipated notions chime
        Aligned by something serendipitous.

        Compelled by the exigencies of form,
        My mind is led in unexpected ways,
        Caught up in a creative mental storm
        Or wandering through a complicated maze.

        And yet, some hand invisible, it seems,
        Covertly guides my mind’s discoveries
        As at the end of each line subtly gleams
        An opportunity I need to seize.

             So many choices hover in my sight,
             But only one will make the verse end right.


Friday, April 25, 2014


        The time’s now coming soon when I can turn
        My full attention to some projects which,
        More than my ordinary work, I yearn
        To do, to satisfy a deeper itch.

        While teaching is engaging and a joy
        Much of the time, grading is a bitch—
        But on sabbatical I can deploy
        My thought and energy on things more rich.

        I see no higher aim than to create,
        Which I intend to do: not only verse
        But a new culture we can celebrate—
        A Global Wisdom Culture to disperse

             The sundry evils of modernity,
             Rising at last to our maturity.


Wednesday, April 23, 2014


    This sonnet form’s a kind of song and dance
    Designed to celebrate the poet’s love,
    Some Beatrice or Laura to romance,
    What R & J’s passion was fashioned of.

    But, centuries on, this vehicle has moved
    Into new territories and explored
    Fresh subjects, moods and attitudes and proved
    Adaptable, which shouldn’t be deplored.

    As long as it still sings and keeps its beat
    Making a little argument that turns
    Before it moves to its conclusion, neat
    And tightly crafted, then it rightly earns

         The status of a sonnet to be sung
         Most joyfully, by many a lusty lung.


Monday, April 21, 2014


    We all depend upon people who care,
    Not only for themselves but for all others,
    With whom they’re generously disposed to share,
    Thinking of them as sisters and as brothers.
    Call this compassion, generosity,
    Or kindliness—all different names for love,
    That bond which binds us each to charity
    Imagined as the Law of Heaven above.
    Though that may be a fable from the past,
    Intended to inculcate and allure,
    Experience alone will prove at last
    That only love can help us to endure
    Those tribulations leading to despair—
    Except for those made comfortable by care.


Saturday, April 19, 2014

     What kind of genius had the Stratford Bard
     That guided him to write those poems and plays
     Which since have won preeminent regard
     Destined to last until the end of days?
     How did he gain such mastery of verse,
     Learning to turn his lines with graceful ease,
     Prompting imagination to disburse
     Both sense and melody designed to please?
     But more, whence came his lusty characters
     Who populated his supernal stage,
     To whom each envious playwright since defers
     As if, like Prospero, he’d been a mage?
          One must conclude Shakespeare’s infinity
          Of wit and art reveals divinity.


Friday, April 18, 2014

NEMEROV 2014 #10


for Lewis Duncan

      Once we’ve deciphered our own programming
      And learned to replicate how we are made,
      We’ll know that we’ll survive most anything
      And may live confident and unafraid.

      Those old bugbears—death and oblivion—
      No longer threatening, now held at bay,
      Think how we’ll flourish—all that may be done
      Unshadowed by the menace of Doomsday.

      Yet with the loss of death what else is lost?
      For all its fear, death gives a piquancy
      To every day, since wasted time will cost
      Us anguish if there’s no eternity.

           The preciousness of life lies in our fear
           Of death: mortality makes life so dear.


Wednesday, April 16, 2014


   These April birds are scattering the dawn
   With tweets and chirps and chitters meant to raise
   More hastily the sun, make night be gone,
   By offering Aurora rightful praise.
        You say it’s territoriality?
        It sounds like joy and thankfulness to me.


Tuesday, April 15, 2014

NEMEROV 2014 #1


Come, kiss me, Kate, and be my bonny lass:
Cast off your fuming, fretful temperament;
The world is better off without your sass,
And your exasperation is misspent.


Let go of me, you saucy, bossy knave!
I’d no more kiss you than I would a rat,
And who are you to teach me to behave?
Unhand me or I’ll prove a killer cat!


But Kate, I find you mild as any kitten—
Here, take my hand, and join with me in joy!


Let go of me, or see your fingers bitten—
I’ll be no mincing mistress, meek and coy.


Well, be you as you will—you shall be mine.


Let me but rule, and all will be divine.


Monday, April 14, 2014


for Bill Moyers

      That government is best which aims for all
      To thrive and flourish, for all humankind
      To reach their full potentials and stand tall,
      As wholly realized as they’re inclined.

      Good government does not serve just the rich
      With subsidies and loopholes for the few,
      Ignoring multitudes left in a ditch,
      But helps the hopeless to start life anew.

      For government exists to regulate
      What otherwise is reckless, wild and wrong,
      And in its place works to perpetuate
      What helps all parties love and get along.

           Though this ideal has yet to be achieved,
           We know it is by wisdom well conceived.


Sunday, April 13, 2014


    Think first of poetry like this as game.
    It’s not that you have something set to say;
    When you begin, you have no certain aim:
    It’s simply that you’ve set some sounds in play
    While you explore emerging lines of thought,
    Which grow in clarity as you proceed,
    Revealing what you did not know you sought,
    Turning mere supposition into deed.
    How this should be remains a mystery,
    That meaning should emerge from a mere frame,
    An empty crossword box implicitly
    Designed to realize a covert aim,
         Yet in this case with no prescribed intent,
         Just meaning you, as you proceed, invent.


Saturday, April 12, 2014


           Hey, you!  Yes, you—who just now threw
                    This can into the street—
           I’ve finally caught up with you:
                    For years, walking my beat
           I’ve daily seen the evidence
                   Of careless disregard
           And your continual offense
                    To sidewalk, bush and yard.
           At last I get to apprehend
                    The scofflaw who has spoiled
           This neighborhood, and I intend
                    Your habits will be foiled:
           For thirty days you’ll fill this sack
           And carry garbage on your back.


Thursday, April 10, 2014


   Your brain is where you demonstrate you’re smart,
   But wisdom is the province of your heart.


Wednesday, April 9, 2014


    Whatever Russell said in his essay
    I have forgotten now—an atheist,
    freethinker, one not minded to obey
    commandments of old dogma but resist,
    exalting logic, rationality,
    and common sense, not common in most minds
    inculcated with blind idolatry
    or bogus ideology that blnds.
    Yet what is it he’d “worship” and why use
    a word that seems religious to describe
    habits and attitudes he’d disabuse,
    the idols of a superstitious tribe?
    To worship is to praise what is of worth,
    and wisdom is our highest aim on Earth.


Tuesday, April 8, 2014


   The Fox this year seems foxier than ever,
   And students in despair say he’ll come “Never!”
   So many times they’ve played Fox Day Roulette,
   Put homework blithely off, then lost the bet,
   That they’re up to their necks in deep doo-doo—
   And, Mr. President, they’re blaming you!

   Perhaps you think a lesson’s to be learned:
   That gamblers will inevitably get burned,
   While those who stick most steadily to their last
   Will triumph over prodigals downcast
   And foiled by their feckless improvidence
   (Which, given their adolescence, is immense).

        So put them, please, out of their misery—
        Let Fox Day ease their immaturity.


Monday, April 7, 2014


     On all the Earth and in the heavens above,
     There’s nothing that’s more wondrous than love,
     For love makes bonds of care and charity
     From chords of universal harmony—

     Celestial joy to which we all are tuned,
     Without which every happiness is ruined,
     For woeful souls are sick and out of sync,
     While loving souls live ever in the pink.


Sunday, April 6, 2014


     The Internet is how we replicate
     The workings of the cosmic paradigm
     In which all parts can instantly relate
     By means we reckon mystic and sublime.

     No more will mechanistic models do
     To visualize the cosmologic scheme;
     Instead, a hologram will prove more true,
     If things are thoughts and life is like a dream.

     Reality arises from a field:
     “Akashic,” some may say; “the mind of God,”
     Others will claim, a secret now revealed
     And by all common calculation odd.

          Since here is there and all is everywhere,
          We’re Home—and have no reason to despair.


Saturday, April 5, 2014


for Duane Elgin

        What science is beginning to explore,
        A universe that’s vital to the core,
        Revokes the mechanistic model taught
        By Newton, finding it less thing than thought,
        With every part tuned in to every other,
        As much akin as sister to a brother,
        For when we reckon rightly, what we find
        Is that the whole shebang is made of mind.

        Then those of us more mystically attuned
        May heal from our old mechanistic wound
        Opening more to cosmic consciousness
        Such as primordial magi might possess.
        What Huxley found behind perception’s door
        Is what noetic scientists explore.


Friday, April 4, 2014


for Duane Elgin

     Since life on Earth seems destined to advance,
     How may our sapient species next enhance
     Our course of evolution and grow wise—
     That latency we’ve yet to realize?

     What aptitude do we most need to nourish
     For humankind at last to fully flourish?
     Our very name shows how we are inclined,
     And yet our history’s more cruel than kind.

     Sapience being more sought for than achieved,
     We pray from folly now to be reprieved
     And from those deadly sins that do us in
     So a blest era may at last begin:

          When we shall see the long-wished-for result
          That human beings have finally grown adult.