A small collection of original poetry


Born alone upon this globe

No others to embrace

Life would be short

And vacuous

Would vanish without a trace

Allen S 4/30/21


Like the dog chasing his tail

We pack in frenzied expectation

Finally underway we breathe

Breath is the true beginning

Allen S 8/15/20


You have been gone. these several days
Today is your return
Your trip replete with deeds of grace
Compassion for one spurned
I too love you, unmeasured heart
So wholly full of love
That God decided from the start
To share you like a dove.

Allen 08-29-14


We ordered from the menu at our favorite restaurant and the wait-person complimented our choice, “”Excellent choice!” As she turned to leave, I decided I wanted another item instead. (What? change my excellent choice? Well yes!) I wanted something else. I stopped her and told her of the change, “Good choice” she retorted as she jotted it down and turned to leave.” As she was leaving my wife added, “And can we have the appetizer before the main course? “Absolutely!” she chimed, (as though that was her intention all along) as she headed to the kitchen. But we had been around the block a few times and weren’t deluded. We have had everything stacked and getting cold in front of us, when wait persons don’t have the forethought to plan our meal experience in advance, so we know to remind them what we expect.

The entire experience reminded me how fed up I am with Superlative Language, (not to speak of half trained wait staff) you know, Service Language. I am so relieved to that the doctor’s office doesn’t use it. When I go for a distasteful procedure I am relieved that I am not told I made an “Excellent Choice” by some person a quarter of my age. Hell, it is a necessary choice, maybe, but on any given day I would find it excellent to be choosing anything else other than having a tube placed in places that tubes were never designed to go. See what I mean? Just tell me I arrived on time and that the doctor will actually be able to see me in the next fifteen minutes (and that actually happen) and all will be copacetic.

Here is a poem to which this ranting gave birth.

What ever happened to mediocrity.

You know, ‘I’m Ok, You’re Ok.’

“What just Ok?

Not Awesome?”

Yes … just OK!

Quiet, Peaceful, Stress free

Me – di – oc – ra – ty





Religious types have more difficult

with extravagance,

Than restraint

Restraint seems their calling

Right and wrong,

Delayed gratification

Confession absolution

Self Denial

What of the road less traveled?

Flying too close to the sun

Basking in abundance

Extracting extravagance for the minds eye

What about awaking tantalized by a morning’s array

See as for the first time

Open eyes to the depth of the ordinary

Notice all surrounds

Smell the sweet scent of compost

Hear hummingbirds approach

Feel the quiet between sounds

Cover me over with this extravagance.

Convict me of flaunting this opulence.

This unrestrained burst of appreciation

Charge me with simply being

Allen S. 5/2/2021

Slap in the Face

That was a slap

In the face


And you – pretending

It was not happening

Unflappably disconnected

Looking at me

As if no assault underway

Stinging sweet demeanor

Stealth strategy

Ignore courtesy

Turn away extended hand

I just want you to know

I felt it


Allen Simons


Awake At Night

There are complexities
Imbedded in each heart
Labyrinths inviting exploration
Callings in the night
That will not let me sleep
I awake to you
I awake to you in me
Just the thought of you in me
Sleeping seems a distant choice
Your labyrinths invite
In-looking malevolent mystery
Waiting to consume my heart

Allen Simons, 04-27-05

Chasing Rainbow

Turning around I beheld her
Casting her garment
Over darkened valley
Projected from some
Beyond behind me

Catching me in deep surprise
Reaching recesses long forgotten
“There is beauty,” I said,
“There is something to live for
Some face to follow into this forest.”

Calling heart to abandon
Landscapes familiar
Lessons once learned.
Laws thought immutable.

But what if her back is absent
Mountainside mirage
Leaving no footprints to follow
No sent to draw me deeper.
No embrace to cradle these aching bones.

What if when standing in her trace
She dissolves like morning mist.
No cloak to wrap me.
No beauty calling my name.
No sleeper waking to my touch.

What if then I discover I am alone, lost in this forest?

Allen Simons

Sparks flurried consumed by the hungry dark

Chills course through my once lethargic body

Trembling in the uncertain cloister

Ears wide open, I await the attack

Suddenly great flapping wings signaled the lifting of some giant predator