We shall not see his like again.

Paul Dresser died the other day. Age 75. He was a giant. My coach, then my friend and mentor, he was one of those people who touched lives forever. His coaching tree has roots deep and wide. His faith and decency and humor and love for those in his broad…

Photo credit -Un-identified Google photo.

I sat on this piece for weeks. It felt true, and rang true with the few people I share it with. I usually share my sonnets here on Medium, and my prose on another site. The other site would not post it, saying it was “too inflammatory.” But this piece…

I am always proud to say I am an ally, but especially so during Pride Month. As a teacher, I have seen the havoc wreaked by hate on too many of my students. I’ve seen kids made homeless when they came out. I always sigh with grace when I see…

Lucy. 2004–2021

Sonnet №86 — A Love So Pure — pet poem #8

No love so pure has ere left human hearts

as love that takes root deep within our pets.

For nothing canst e’er pull us apart

From those creatures, we shall not forget.

Our pups from childhood still live within;

they dwell, yet be long past these forty years.

You’ll ne’er forget your kitty’s grin

or how your dog wouldst pine to scritch her ears.

Shakespeare doth not wrote of love so pure

that comes ‘tween all good people and their pets.

Unrequited, yet no one seeks a cure;

A rare love, with feelings bold; no regrets.

Our pets, they hold our hearts for evermore;

’til our souls, too, wash up on heaven’s shores.

— — September 2020.

My father had this basswood, folding ruler. He died, it is now mine, and when I die, I hope my son will keep it, and then in turn, pass it down.

The ruler is stamped STANLEY. That’s not our branch of the family. We used to be Stanisloffsky.

Sonnet 85 — My Father’s Ruler

The wooden rule hath faded from long use.

Two feet long, it doth…

Montage by author

Sonnet №82 — the hole — pet poem 6

What is this gnawing hole within my chest?

Where once I felt deep love, I ache with pain.

Why was I so lucky? I was much blest.

When will this hurt begin to truly wane?

A dog digs deep within your human core.

It touches gently, and soon you are as one.

You’d think the love runs dry, yet there is more,

A pet’s love is e’er there, fain never done.

A wriggle of the nose, a tilted head;

an arched back bow, a paw upon your thigh.

A digging in the covers on your bed;

a melding of the minds when you must cry.

What is this empty hole within my chest?

’Tis my pet’s heart come home, at last, to rest.

— — August 2020.


DStan58 is a teacher, a writer, a dad, a voice-over actor and poet. He's a melanoma survivor and a pulmonary embolism survivor. He's bringing sonnets back,

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