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The earth still groans;
We lost our Shepherd
We’ve been left alone.
Now we have a lion roaming the earth, calling His herd,
Celebrate.
Lift your head,
Renew your hope;
Our best days are still ahead.
I re-read my poem and connected my words lion roaming the earth and Pope Leo...?!
Not so much
a lie
with little
truth to tell

Not so much
goodbye
with greetings
gone to hell

Not so much
romance
with feelings
dead or pawned

Not so much
to dream
with sleep
— bereft and gone

(Bryn Mawr College: May, 2025)
Selmhem Naise
03/2016

Poetry is so much
more
than many people think it is.
It is
the place
where the battleground of light and dark
makes its  finest stand..

or most pathetic fall.


If I were a cost
would it be worth
the effort to lay it down on paper ?

The woods would be
full of rotting timber
not fit to burn on page

The rivers would be
contaminated
with foul thoughts
from all the words
of poison that they spray

The clean up costs
would be prohibitive
The emotional cost
devastating

So trying to be
cost effective
leaves little to
be me

Then why do I continue to write poetry ? 😠
I saw an Angel in my dream.
She said she would fulfill any wish I have.
"Should I make you the best ?"she asked.
"No,"said I.
"Just a little better than yesterday.
That will do."
In the reflection
of your eyes
there's the yellow glow of warmth turning
forever blue

The offering of a hand full of goodbyes
slips off my fingertips
crystallized ìn sunshine
tears and whys
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