Dan Hanosh

Through the trees, opaque
billowy pillows, splash on
an azure canvas, sailing furiously,
beyond my view.
...

I move my pen across
the parchment, sometimes with
such precise strokes,
proceeding without
...

A dark gloomy scene
fills my window pane
a cool breeze blows
suggesting rain
...

The time was not right,
is it ever, you had
your life, I had mine,
infatuation, maybe, maybe love.
...

That fateful day in
September, fear surfaced
For a nation, once again.
...

fills my senses
browns, oranges, yellows
meld into the sky, a
back dropp for this
...

Bombarded by worries
of money and time
maybe my dream needs
to be put on hold
...

her silken fibers worn by the wind and rain
cling to her feeble shoulders a painted facial
tautness grainy as parchment screams for the sun’s
sweet rays her smile beams brightly clover among
...

Many years have past since
I’d been a gung-ho youth of fourteen
Vietnam had been a child-like fantasy of
glory and honor cradling me proudly
...

Nothing matters
when happiness alludes
not the environment
not peace not family not
...

Grains of sand,
sift, through
my fingers,
...

The revolving strobe of the lighthouse
dances brightly against the rocky coast
and out of the salty surf rises the rough
rigid rocks from beneath the waters
...

I’ve been lucky to
have lived two lives,
one for money and the
other for me.
...

Constant murmur,
drowning the chatter
of the children, splashing
in the pool.
...

Today,
I sit, trying
to come up with
something unique,
...