Writing poetry for over half a century delving into themes such as relationships, spirituality, creativity, and his passion for life, John has self-published a collection of 15 volumes including two enchanting children’s books composed in verse, namely A Sneaky Twitch of an Itch and The Journey Home, as well as a compilation of essays and poetry centered on the subject of aging, titled Comes A Time. While permanently living in Ajijic with his artist wife, Candis, John has penned 5 novels: a trilogy titled To Each Their Own Goodbye, consisting of Book 1: Anywhere Except Yesterday, Book 2: A Long Way From Nowhere, and Book 3: When Tomorrow Is Never Enough, a standalone novel, If You Are Born To Be A Tamale, and in the process of publishing Wanting To Breathe Here In.
All In A Day’s Work
Car Jockeys
with the patience of a toothless smile,
idling on every chica shimmering by
Curb Lawyers
hustling empty parking spaces
Bullfighters
waving red rags at oncoming vehicles
sweeping the sidewalks for loose change:
In the stands, familia waiting
for an ear or two
if it comes it comes.
In another world,
bereft of the dignity of purpose
driftwood waiting on the tide
*****
Esto Lo Sabes
This you know
is where the water springs forth
where we bathe
in the luxury of life
and slip beneath the surface
barely a ripple
for having been here
some of us
hang in here
like energizer bunnies
daring the universe to let go
some
miss the morning
wakeup call
and leave a hole
in the evening sky
where once a star shone brightly
others just tired of it all
we send on ceramic vessels
to where good memories
come to rest
in the underwater shrines
of Lake Chapala
This you know
is where we all come
to say goodbye
*****
Gone Fishing
every once and awhile
one needs
to wrap themselves
in forgiveness
and forgetfulness
blur the lines,
blatantly indulge in life
without a hangover
of regret
or need
to justify the moment
it’s the only way
to release the hook
lean into it
no resistance
no pulling away
*****
Learning To Lean Back On Living
lay back, listen
water dripping off leaves
each drop holding the memory
of last night’s storm
sit back, relax,
welcome day
into your awareness
as you would your lovers arms
learning to lean back on living
goes a long way
in letting each day
come to you as it is meant to be
*****
In The Driver’s Equipal
Stuck in traffic, in the rear view mirror, straw hat
perched on my nose, savoring a morning mug
of the brew that lay enchantingly before me.
Trumpeting the morning sunrise, a warm palm
of sunlight caresses a shimmering Lake Chapala
with the serenade of a fisherman’s paddle,
the fingertips of daylight seductively slip off
the nightgown worn by the Sierra Madres
skirting the edges of my embraced paradise.
A cuckold’s seductive invitation to rise
and live another day in another nest,
never entering my mind, for contentment
is the knowing my morning’s commute
is now communion with a never dreamed
of world that now circulates in my veins
and rush hour is the pumping of my heart
in rhythm of another day passing,
sitting in the driver’s equipal
*****
Maestro
students seated in preparation
for an after school fiesta
turtles born far from shore
wade through many obstacles
noise increases exponentially
when young minds begin to lose interest
a generation born with headphones
learning how not to listen
decisions in the heat of passion,
a guessing game in search of answers
rain turns streets into rivers
polishing cobblestones
fertile minds well cultivated,
the maestro practicing patience
in time flowers bend to the sun
music helps them blossom
what did the maestro learn
pouring water into an endless well
quantity in a vast desert of minds
quality in a glass of water
*****
Neruda
I adore you Pablo,
poet of the seashells crawling from the sea.
poet of the bleak landscape,
jeweled realm of Beetlebacks,
and small touchable everyday us.
poet of the foam of sea
chaffing on a stark shore,
the grain of us, the red & blue of us.
I eat your words and they consume me.
after your death.
after your broken sea polished glass
was swept into the dustbin of memory
myth, story, poem,
wearing mourning black
children of words
waiting for the sky to unfold
waiting for the precious stones
buried in your forever mind
*****
Re-tire Re-tread Re-make
time comes
when you need to stop expanding
in the universal scheme of things
whoadown, slow down,
leave behind the rebound,
spend time staying healthy doing the daily
comealong, and not much more.
Re-mind re-start re-take,
go with the flow of a transcending theme
quantity dis-abled, quality en-abled,
joy embedded in the doing and so much more.
It’s all about making room
for the new shoots,
nature nudging you to go out and play,
reinventing yourself versus
becoming a product
of a disposable world.
If you don’t use it,
you know,
it wears down
from lack of friction with life,
and rusts.
After he retired and moved to Sedona, Arizona, he taught literature at Yavapai College in Clarkdale, Arizona.
He and professional artist Bev Kephart bought a small motor home in 2003, sold most of their possessions, and traveled the U. S. for seven years. After visiting Mexico several times, they settled in the village of Ajijic, joining the ex-pat artist and writing communities.
Mel’s writing has been published online and in print in The United Kingdom, The United States, Mexico, New Zealand, and Australia. He is the author of three novels, a book of short stories, and several books of poetry. He and his wife now make their home in the village of San Nicholas de Ibarra.
- Poetry Niche – September 2023 - August 30, 2023
- Tennis Practice - August 30, 2023
- Poetry Niche – August 2023 - July 31, 2023
