Saturday, October 27, 2012

What Would I Tell You

What would I tell you
If we were together
And talked about my day?

Would I talk of the drudgeries,
Of waking early, and work, &
The usual driving to and fro?

Do you want to hear more
About my meals, or grooming,
Washing dishes or clothes?

How did you sleep? I might ask
To speak of my dreams, and
Rolling from side to side, alone?

No, I want to speak about the joy
That is your presence in my life
& every thought you influenced today!

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

As I watch the future ply out before me, I often wonder, do we create our destinies, or just predict them?

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Make Your Word Be Heard

we once used such great words,
words that rolled off the tongue in ways most melodious,
words that, by constitutive sounds, induced a giggle,
that sparkled, that awed and confounded,
words that evoked emotions, imaginations, nightmares,
with just the proper pronunciation --
I propose that we all be Shakespeare:
not just the forgery of combination,
but creation!

Friday, September 21, 2012

I am always thinking: What does the future hold?

Do I face it with fear, that I will fail, that I will be caught unable?
Frail witness, witless, to my own demise -- Do you? Are you afraid?

Is there a way to pull back from this grief, this knowledge of death?

Our Nacred Hearts

Time does not heal all wounds of heart and mind
We learn, each moment, to stop touching the hurt
A distance that we lacquer a layer at a time until
-- a cure! -- a stone-walled defense against the pangs

 As every raindrop traps a mote of dust
And every pearl contains a grain of sand
It is the pain we have on the inside
That creates our outer beauty

Saturday, September 8, 2012

I Have A Tiny Room

I have a tiny room inside my heart
I decorate with memories of you.
So whenever my feet become weary,
When the tides of life rip through me --
I can take my ease in my tiny room
And know that what I'm going through
Is for you, and me, and we.
Then I can smile, again, and carry on.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Upon Witnessing A Great Old Tree

It is sad to see this great Old Tree
So tangled and overgrown,
And to wonder if it will survive
A stern pruning, or worse, wildfire!
What a strangled mess - with crossing limbs
And sucker-shoots, and leaves
Starved for oxygen, failing to floresce,
Without seed or stone or fruit ...
If fortune favors, no fungus rots the heartwood,
Nor virus plague the branch ...
But where to cut? And, too, how deeply?
Do I wait another season? Another year?
     Another day?