The “doctor” is in.
Caring words for a troubled heart
in a dosage that will impart a remedy
for any ailment or malady. Encouraging
healing in the hearing of his verse,
no nurse can massage and soothe
what this Doctor of Poetics can touch
with gentle compassion, a fashion
which has not been taken to heart
since the aching had started.
Injecting humor to induce laughter’s medicine,
and after that, prescribing in rhyme
for the times when his words aren’t so apparent.
It is inherent to his purpose, to do no harm
with the words that warm and placate.
Giving a clean slate to a heart so caressed
by the worded wonder of a true poetic healer.
A great deal, just be sure to follow the warning:
take two poems and call me in the morning.

The “doctor” is always in.


Tall and proud they stood,
brothers from the same design.
One taller than the other;
he wore his hat to distinguish them.
Side-by-side, they kept watch
over the multitudes with attitudes,
near the harbor, they held no ill will
standing still while liberty had shown the way.
Until that day, their futures bright together,
their fates tied to their function.
But their compunction was well founded
when they were grounded.  Encouraging to the last,
until the fast descent caused by one’s great fall.
The other followed shortly, two swept clear.
Ten years older if they were still here. 
Tall and proud they stood,
brothers from the same design,
holding lives and dreams for all
concerned in the balance.
Under a valance of dust and rubble
there remains no trouble remembering the twins.