Postman
and poet?

love letters in mail

Accountant
and poet?

precision, detail

Archeologist
and poet?

sifting for feelings

Electrician
and poet?

a jolt
leaving one reeling

architect
and poet?

drafting with words

Zookeeper
and poet?

singing of birds

Bus driver
and poet?

observing life's roadways

Minister
and poet?

perhaps how he prays

Lawyer
and poet?

though about win or lose
her poetry just might amuse

Economist
and poet?

Aren't we all that?
though we wear different hats
distilling things downwards
saving on words

whoever you are
whatever you choose
listen, observe
welcome your Muse!

The sounds of morning
roused me from a deep slumber.
The clouds grew tumid.

Songbirds of the day
kept me company and we
held the rain at bay.

A gentle twilight
broke the slow afternoon’s back;
a drizzle followed.

The sky wept last night;
the storm faded in hiccups.
Now the earth is dry.

A Man

 

 

A man is first born into this world

A small babe, a bundle all curled;

He lays there so gentle and sweet

Nothing to defend himself, no nails, no teeth:

 

A blank slate waiting to learn and absorb

They pick up on everything, like a glutton they gorge;

So who taught them to be so violent and bold

We watch as, boys will be boys the old adage is told:

 

A man is told he’s suppose to fight for his belief

So he’ll fight his best friends over a disagreement, no matter how brief;

But if that same man is also soft, caring, and sweet

He’s called a *****, a girl, proclaiming he’s weak:

 

Who came up with this definition of a man

Because I can’t follow this creed, it’s not who I am;

I cry at the movies, and get chills from a song

Having feelings and emotions, who’s to say this is wrong:

 

So I’m here for all the men, afraid to find their own voice

The wars we wage, and women we ****, it isn’t a right it’s a choice;

We all have a moral compass that should be followed

And never believe (their) lies, so easily swallowed:

 

A man is he, and he is I

We are all multifaceted, like the sides of a die;

A wise man once sung, he lived for the sake of others, so they could do the same

So I write this poem for him, myself, and you with no shame:

i don’t know why i think of you
like a lot
but you’re one of my favorite things
that i catch myself thinking of
when i’m not paying attention in class

Every evening when day is done
my body tired from an active day
you cover me and ready me to come
into an orbit far away.

A place native peoples reside
where Kokopelli wanders and plays
and eagles ride the winds, glide
and rejoice in setting sun’s golden rays.

I fly into a patchwork sky
where I am stitched together,
comforted, protected under your watchful eye
where hawks soar and tickle with feathers.

I visit frightful places
hear horrible screams
see angry and twisted faces
feel my fears in my teary dreams.

I am grateful for these flights
for the certain and steady care
that covers me on cold and windy nights
for this Quiltmaker beyond compare.

"You're gonna get sick and weak if you don't eat."
But what if I already am?
These emotions have consumed my heart entirely.
I cannot tame this feeling,
     but I can control everything else.
Being skinny...
     bones are considered beautiful,
     food is the enemy,
     muscles are weakness,
so the fruit in my water is not to be consumed,
     but only to be tasted.
I have begun to become so numb that it has spread to my physical
     self.
Unlocking my front door this morning...
     I could see it unlock and open,
     but I did not feel it.