Footsteps echo off the polished floor
reflections in a vaulted corridor,

if I chose then I can hear more than
the echoes off the polished floor,

the possibility comes to me
that I
maybe all that I can see
a thought so frightening in its
intensity
that I close my eyes.

( and only hear the crescendo of
my rising fear)

If you let it
the dullness will pull you in
and before you know it
everything becomes drab,

so grab your happy shoes
and use the magic of a smile
dance for a while
walk for a mile,
paint rainbows with your eyes
and
turn the dull spots into sunspots,

freckles tickle everyone.

I am rarin' to go
said
no one I know
at
four twenty-nine
on a Tuesday.

Here I am
coffee and toast,
no jam
I'm dieting,
which makes it difficult
to get my calories in
the way I like too.

you may scoff,
but I won't
as I said
I'm dieting
ha
just a pun from the old 'un.

I'll
see you on the home run.

We don't arrive with a
'best before'
or a
'use by'
and that's a shame.

I expect though
that being used by your
best before
is the best we can hope for.

can someone explain to me
why
I call this poetry?

some say it's lunacy
but
it's only the things that
I think that I see,
not lunacy,
no!
that's not me,
not me at all.

The journey
the place
the deed

it's nothing that happened
overnight

like all other things
it was a slow-growing ****

or maybe I got caught
watching the paint dry

but do not judge me
for the things I have done

I only did
what I had to do

Whit Howland © 2020

electric blue ink

rolling straight lines

some light and thin
others

thick with pressure
applied

kicking and screaming
pulling teeth

I never thought
I'd say this

I miss all of you

I know none of us
look the same

Whit Howland © 2020

The poem
I write over
and over
the dream
I have every
other night but
I'm not a crazy
person expecting
a different outcome
I'm just an optimist
and I can cede that
I might be a fool
who just hopes for
and wants the best
for everyone

Whit Howland © 2020