HSR IN CHINA MAPHey, China’s bullet trains are creating tons of benefits for people including new kinds of upscale suburbia! So this can happen here, too, in the U.S. Click the link and read about it here. And exult!  Read all about this exciting high speed rail story here: http://www.evworld.com/focus.cfm?cid=135 and share with your lovers and friends!

Patrick The Poet


AT SHUT OF EVEOne time I contemplated what if the world should actually come to an end and I knew the very day it would, what would I do?  And who would I spend the last day alive on earth with?  After contemplating this for a while, I was inspired to write the following poem.  And it answers and answered for me those few nagging questions that had once plagued me.  Might they hold an answer or two for you as well…should you ever deeply contemplate the end of the world

Patrick The Poet



In the time of all folly and betrayal
When the gods of earth and ruin collide,
When all our hopes fade and all our words fail,
Be here in that last moment–by my side!
Ignore the death of sunset and sunrise,
And the world’s destruction at dusk or dawn.
Show me the life still shining in your eyes–
At shut of eve my own are cast upon!

Then stay with me a while, my final friend,
At shut of eve speak no word of goodbye.
Though to oblivion we may descend
As the cosmos may cease without a sigh!
Let us–if we must!–witness mankind’s end,
But at all costs let us not watch love die.



This is how it was long ago when I kissed someone I really loved for the last time.  Such a time often comes to each of us.  For does anyone get out of life alive?  Well, maybe this poem of mine will help you when the times comes and you need to kiss someone you really love for the last time.  And ah, may they kiss you back the same!



When you should be fading before me and nearing death,
Like a frail leaf drowning in an early morning mist,
I’ll kiss you like a poet now writing his last breath,
To lips his heart was given–no words had ever kissed!
I’ll kiss you like a wounded dove in desperate flight,
Lost from ever finding home or any place called love.
I’ll kiss you like a fallen angel stolen from light,
Ah, bereft of ever reaching our brethren above!
I’ll kiss you like an ocean does a smooth, sandy beach,
In a broken, tearful touch–enflamed!–yet soft and cool.
Not because hope and salvation are beyond all reach,
But because death is wise, and life has made me a fool!
I’ll kiss you like springtime, when the trees are rich and rife,
Like a memory of passion gorged and cloyed with fruit.
I’ll kiss you like a flower does the sunlight of life,
And like silence does lovely music time cannot mute!
I’ll kiss you like the virgin snow does the barren earth,
Like the desolate clouds would kiss a radiant sky.
Or as the cold, frozen wind can kiss a blazing hearth,
Oh, I’ll kiss you like the stars that watch a sunset die!
Then, when all is said and done and the moment is gone,
I’ll kiss you with a kiss that will last forevermore!
That because I love you as a graveyard does the dawn
(Just as the darkest dark begs the faintest light come in!)
I swear I’ll kiss you as you’ve never been kissed before!
(And as long as I live…you’ll never be kissed again.)


When it comes to writing fiction–which I simply do not write enough of–I believe in the “romantic ideal.”  Be it a screenplay, stage play, short story, or novel, the romantic ideal is about telling a story that has a happy ending.  One phrase that really describes the romantic ideal is this one: “They lived happily ever after.”  “Good always triumphs over evil” is another phrase I think describes the romantic ideal.

And this is the way it should be, because this is what everyone in life wants most of all.  Love and happiness.  And the triumph of goodness in life.  If you don’t, then you really shouldn’t be reading my blog.  You should probably segue over to any Ernest Hemingway or John Steinbeck wannabe’s website and roost there.  But not here.  Here, you will find predominately mushy love and happiness and goodness stuff.  In fact, herewith is a short story I wrote that totally embodies the romantic ideal.  It’s called “Secret Admirer.”  And if you’re a secret or public admirer of the romantic ideal, rest assured, you are at the right blog.

” S E C R E T   A D M I R E R ”

“Is it you? My secret admirer?” the faint voice whispered.

“My God! Emily! You’ve regained consciousness and come back! It’s…it’s a miracle!”

It felt kind of foolish saying this, but what other words were there in such a moment? My God, I thought. Five years! Five long years of waiting and praying for a miracle. For prayers were answered sometimes, were they not? And if this was not a miracle, then what could it possibly be?

I quickly stood up and looked outside the cubical to see if Emily’s parents were nearby. They had left their daughter’s curtained room a few moments earlier before I began reading poetry to her–an activity I enjoyed doing during each of my visits. But this time, only a few minutes of reading had elapsed when Emily had suddenly awakened and spoke for the first time in five years.

“Is it you?” she asked again. Her eyes were now wide open and gazing at me. Also for the first time in five years. I had not found Emily’s parents in the corridor outside, so I immediately returned to sit beside Emily’s bed.

We had been regular visitors, Emily’s parents and I. And the three of us came twice a week to talk, read and pray to the comatose figure that lay upon the hospital bed– unresponsive and seemingly unaware of our attentions. But somehow we managed to maintain faith and never give up hope, all the while believing that she would one day recover from her coma.

Five years earlier, Emily had been the innocent victim of an automobile accident, resulting in the death of the other driver and minor injuries to passengers in both cars. Strangely enough, and since we shared residence in a small Boston subhurb, I was only a few blocks away when the accident occurred. Amazingly, it was I who first arrived at the scene only moments after the accident occurred, and because of this I was able to pull her from her car which had burst into flames seconds after impact.

Superficially, she had only suffered some minor cuts and abrasions. But a head injury had left her unconscious the moment I found and removed her from the burning vehicle. The doctors, of course, were unable to revive her, and could not explain if her tragic condition was the sole cause of physical or emotional trauma. Their prognosis was simple: either she would at some sudden moment regain consciousness, or remain in a coma and on life-support, perhaps for the rest of her life.

And yes, even after five years, we kept faith. Of course there were friends and other admirers from the neighborhood and her school who initially came to visit and share their prayers with us.

But time can surely try one’s loyalty and test one’s faith. So after the first year, visitors came less and less to visit Emily and pray at her bedside. And for a while, the few who continued to come, came only to offer respects or to offer moral support to Emily’s parents. Their diminishing visits and the dreary passage of time seemed only to strengthen my faith and resolve I knew I would always possess. But I wasn’t judgmental nor thought I was a better person for having kept faith longer. What was important was knowing that my feelings for Emily had not and would not diminish. And no matter what, I knew I would always remain Emily’s secret admirer. Though this was a secret only her parents and I shared.

“It is you, isn’t it?” she softly asked. Her eyes found me seated near the bed. I immediately moved my chair closer and clasped her hand in mind.

“Yes, it’s me. How…how are you feeling?” I didn’t know what else to say at this moment. I was still in shock! It was unbelievable and more than the strongest faith could have ever expected.

The two of us had never spoken to each other before the accident and at the time I was but a stranger to her, in the neighborhood and at school. To me though, and the very moment I first laid eyes upon her, I fell in love with her and knew I could never love another.

“What is this place? Where am I?”

“Don’t you know? Don’t you remember what happened?” I cautiously asked. She appeared revitalized and like one who had just awakened from a good night’s sleep. Inexplicably, she looked as young and beautiful as the first time I saw her–neither aged by time nor physically altered in any manner by her long illness.

“What’s wrong? You’re…you’re crying,” she observed.

“Emily, you’ve been asleep…in a coma…for…for…”

“I know,” she said gently, placing her hand upon mine once more. “I remember now… everything. The accident…it was a…”

“Don’t think of it.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m not afraid. I’m all right now.”

At that moment, Emily’s parents came back into the room. They stopped, and quietly closed the curtains behind them. Expressions of wild surprise and unexpected joy filled their faces; and exultant tears fell from their eyes. The cubical was dark and Emily did not see them enter; so she did not know that while she and I continued our conversation, her parents stood silently at the entrance and would wait until our special moment was past and theirs would begin.

Suddenly, Emily stared into my eyes–as if recognizing an old friend for the first time.  “It was you all those times…reading to me, talking to me and giving me strength? It was you and Mom and Dad.”


“I know who you are. You’re the one who’s always telling stories and reading poetry to me. The one who kept praying for me to come back. You’re… you’re my secret admirer, aren’t you? I remember hearing you say it.”

“Yes, that’s me. But foremost…your friend.”

“So, I am not alone. I was never alone, was I?” she whispered.

“No. You were never alone.” I replied.

“Thank you. Thank you, so very much. Oh, I have waited so long to see you. For so long I have heard you talk to me and read to me and tell me how much you loved me. It was this devotion, this loyalty, this…this love which gave me the strength and courage to return to life. And all the same I have learned to feel for you was also enough to bring me back. So that now, finally, I could tell you.”

“For five years, dear Emily. For five, long years, we have waited,” I said.

“Yes. For five, long years I have been here in a coma, but always hearing you read and pray to me and…and remaining my secret admirer. For five, long years I have felt your presence…while drawing strength from your faith. And all this time you have been in my dreams. All this time I’ve been waiting to finally awake and…and be with you!”

“This is all I’ve ever hoped for, Emily,” I cried.

She smiled, and continued: “Well, just as you have confided in me, you should know that from the very beginning when I first heard your sweet voice and right up to this very moment as I now see you for the first time, that you’ve always had a secret admirer of your own!”

What Matter?

Since today is POET’S DAY it is important to end the work week on a positive note.  In this regard, I consider the learning process that is life itself.  We are always learning and hopefully always growing and improving and progressing.  There is so much to learn and yet to know…and yet to do.  Unless you’re six feet under, I see no reason ever stop. 

So it is about truth and love and so many other superlative aspects of the human condition.  Even if for most our lives we lived in ignorance and walked a life full of folly, it is never too late to learn and to change and to become a better person.  This is the general theme of my poem for this bright, bustling, bodacious POET’S DAY.  And I hope the poem and its message is something you enjoy.  (:-D

What matter if the earth be flat or round
Or if life should remain a mystery?
So long as they astonish and astound,
This lively world is good enough for me!
But if by chance yours may have turned out wrong
And left you feeling little strength to survive,
I ask what matter if you be weak or strong
So long as you’re breathing and are still alive?
Yes, the days look dark and your hopes are few
And a lifetime of failures is all you can see,
But what matter if the world should laugh at you
So long as you still have your dignity?
For soon enough the falsehood of success flies
As wisdom has betrayed you as much as youth.
Still, what matter if you’ve lived your life in lies
So long as you ultimately find the truth?
But enough of regret.  And vanquish guilt!
The powers of change are poised and amassed!
And still waiting to see the future rebuilt…
Whenever you’re ready to bury the past.
Therefore, though you be angry at time and fate
And might even curse the heavens above,
What matter if a lifetime you endure hate
So long as you finally embrace love?

A Perfect Day: Embrace the Intangible

Life is filled with both certainty and uncertainty.  Likewise, it is rife with what you know to be true and with what you doubt and cannot trust.  However, there are some things you cannot know through touch and sight and the other senses, at least not in terms of it being solid and having substance and material weight and form.  There are things you can know and feel through thought and emotion, but they hold no tangible dimension and cannot be boxed or jarred or carried inside one’s pocket.  On the other hand, these intangibles can be kept and stored inside one’s heart and mind and made as real as anything that does contain solidity and substance. 

What are these intangibles?  There are many: truth, justice, honor, integrity, trust, hope, faith, loyalty, desire, and love, just to name a few.  But regardless these intangibles may lack weight and substance they are nonetheless as solid and substantial as anything in the physical universe.  In fact, I believe most these qualities are even more solid and substantial than physical objects.  Especially love.  It may be the most solid substance in the entire universe.  Indestructible, too.  I present my ultimate contention via poetry, as follows:



The sun was shining–for the rain stopped and stole away.
But the wind kept blowing and left wind-swept trees unfurled!
They saw our presence…and demanded our souls to stay
And pay attention…while the day perfected the world!

Therefore, we spent it with the sea that greeted the shore.
Then listened to the sun and surf…and to lilting birds!
And we felt like forever…would last forever more.
With the smile inside our hearts that spoke a thousand words!

For might evening arrive and hurry us from our joy?
Or would we know to stay and not let time steal away?
No matter!–although there is much that life can destroy,
It won’t be the perfect love we felt this perfect day.

Buy This Book – Read Beautiful Poetry!

If you appreciate beautiful, profound poetry and writing that is clever and stimulating then you should definitely obtain a copy of “Triplicity: Poems in Threes” the newest book of verse by acclaimed poet Kristen McHenry. Visit this link to read about Kristen and a tasty sampling from Triplicity–an amazing poem about Star Trek’s Mr. Spock! Visit here to also obtain your personal copy of Kristen’s remarkable tome: http://www.indigoinkpress.org/books/authors/kristen-mchenry/. This book is definitely a keeper!


Kristen McHenry is a resident of Seattle, Wash., and is a poet by night, non-profit program manager by day. She has her bachelor’s degree in theatre arts and filmmaking from The Evergreen State College. Among other publications, her work has been seen in Bare Root Review, Numinous Magazine, Tiferet …

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