Poetry Series: Seasons

Poetry Series: Seasons (Fall) Part II

As we continue on, here’s part 2 of my poetry series entitled “Seasons”.  You can read all about it and catch up by reading part 1 (Summer) here.

For many, there’s something unsettling about the fall season.  The chill in the air makes some of us want to stay in doors and prepare to hibernate like bears while others seem to bask in the brisk breeze.  While writing this I thought of the trees dying and it reminded me of death and how the feeling is similar to those chilly autumn mornings.  Dark, cold and lonely.  Unlike the trees that are sure to reappear in the spring, when human lives are lost they are gone in the physical forever.  But, I don’t think I truly believe in death.  I don’t think anyone ever really dies, just becomes reincarnated into a different form of energy.  My great grandmother passed away a few years ago and I can still feel her presence.  It can be a scent, a number or even a person who will appear to me as her be in another form.  Fall can represent many things.  The theme for this series incorporates growth with the changing seasons and with growth in life, comes death.  However, I believe that one can grow through the process of death and like the tree’s life cycle, one will take a minute to rest, recuperate and blossom again into a magnificent tree…of life.

Seasons (Fall) Part II


Don’t ever die again

Don’t allow the restriction of time to determine your end

Don’t allow your skin to thin and melt away

Your hands, dry and brittle and brown and once they have left the trees they are now dead

So children play and run and jump in their demise as I cry surrounded by these unpleasant reminders of your demise

Don’t ever do that again

I can’t take it

The beauty in the passing of the failing of the falling tree’s last effort to remain intact is unbearable

I can’t stand here naked without you

They can’t make it without them

I don’t want to be brave without you

But they will always come back

The children will play and never stay and winter’s force will blow death away and spring’s warmth will entice growth and summer’s heat will promote hope and the trees will rise

again and again and again but you will not  


So please don’t ever die again.

Poetry Series: Seasons (Summer) Part 1


I wrote a short series of poetry centered around the topic of the changing seasons with a reoccurring theme of growth.  The first in the series, Summer, just might be my favorite so far.  Maybe it’s the fact that I love the summer season.  The freedom of longer and warmer days, the energy in the city, the excitement in kids eyes, the hopefulness that the season seems to bring.  Growing up, summer in New York City, Brooklyn to exact, was the BEST.  It was as if nothing mattered except being outside, enjoying the warmth with your friends.  As an adult, that feeling still lingers.  I’m almost tempted to solve all of life’s problems with the answer “Whatever, it’s summer”.  This first piece is accompanied by a photograph that I took on the pier at Santa Monica Beach in California.  It reminds me of old photographs of Coney Island during the summer where the beach is packed with beach goers, all enjoying the mental and physical break from the norm.  I’ll release each poem and related photograph during the new season.  Enjoy!



Let’s dance
And smile
And play
And eat berries until
The sky becomes pink and grey
Spend days by the ocean
Greeted by its breeze
Let’s get lost in it all
Work like we love it
Spend hours in someone else’s world like we matter
Because we know in a few short moments
We will have the sun all to ourselves
Let’s pray together
Out loud or in silence
Let’s affirm our guidance and not worry at all
Let’s grieve when sorrow hits and never live in it
Grow through it together, or alone
Let’s write music no one will hear so we never fear
Dream impossible dreams awake, sleep and dream again
Let’s love like there’s no hate
Pour our souls on paper so generations to come can relate
Let’s be free
Let’s be free
Let’s be free
And never leave the water’s edge