Bittersweet
13 September 2021

Awake from a dream, aching.
Deep memories lingering.
Nugget of sweet bitter, mouth fingered.
Sweetest flavour.
Impossible savour.
Passion spokes, pierce, broken.
Young, too ready, token.
Precious moment’s perfection,
Painful reflection.
How do I speak phantom glass?
How do I leave your past?
Old photo back wall, kissed again!
Kissed again!!
Wish I had kept it all.
Wish I could let it fall.

12 September 2021

When you are a mountain, no hill to climb.
When you are a mountain, stars mill your time.
When you are a river, water clear falls.
When you are a child, you hear my call.

11 September 2021

THOSE you loved would hurt you.
THOUGH you loved them, not forgive them.

THAT you would hurt one you loved.
THEY would not forgive you.

THOSE you loved,  loved you.
THAT you did not know everyone who loved you.

THAT when you thought you didn't have enough strength, you could do more.
THOSE who loved you, found a way to care for you.

THOUGH you were not loved enough, you were loved more than you thought.
THAT love you gave, came back doubled.

THAT love caused trouble.
THAT love troubled you.

THOSE you loved would not be here..
THAT you would have so little time.


THERE would be SO little time.

Compassion
10 September 2021.

Lying broken on a old farm road,
A gray eyed beagle licked her hand.

They cried their tears to the tires.

Poetry  (Haiku)

10 Sept 2021

A new suit.
Wrap me in soft linen.
I feel naked.

The Illusions of who I am

9 September 2021

Father, husband, neighbour.
Manager, debtor, son whose favoured.
Every day a different flavour. .

Patient, uncle, old granddad.
Devil, angel, senile, mad.
Friend, lover, high school grad.

Pilot, mechanic, pianist, realist.
Poet, dreamer, schemer, meaner.
Each day there is a trend,
No end to how I’m bent.

I belong to you, decide.
I have no need to hide.

09 September 2021

This morning trees speak of fall coming.
Leaves are changing in the sun and tilt south.
A grey squirrel sitting saucily on the highest twig,
Looks for more tasty nuggets, some already amouth.

Cooler winds now ripple my still fresh blossoms,
Pink in basket, soon to be stirred with frost.
A noisy flock of geese overhead heading like flotsam,
Calling unsettled direction, all loudly following the lost.

Many will return in the spring to continue their lives.
Buds will break through into early rising light of new days.
So many will be reborn, and thrive.
My fall is coming. I feel the flame. I am ablaze.