I read and find the bestest lines
Are like novels on a shelf,
I read them over several times
And wish I written them myself!
PwL  6/8/15

You remind me of the earth,
   like deep burnt umber woodlands
mid downpours' fresh aroma
       & spring's foliage lushly reborn,
twinkling explosive pinpoints
       grazing beyond dark ether,
  sparkles dappling 'pon depths
        of eternal seascapes's nature,
amidst breath of relentless airy winds
    gusting above her majesty's hazes
       beyond purple mountain's apex
and streams of meadows' wildflowers in
  deftly painted horizons after moonbows,
vivid consciousness' uttermost reminisce
   of all things recollected in the long ago
        essence of your memories' presence

it was not too late for some metaphors
I was trying to sleep
when the air said:
“I will take him from you,
and give him back
randomly
and white butterflies will grow
in your hair”

“he will have himself
that’s what matters”,
I said to myself
while time was left dreamless
and some butterflies
were carrying the sea
to the roots of sleep

The clouds are windy
And foreign, light rays
In the sky is my dream,
I am nestled in wave
As we run sleepy to shore.

In the wet sands of beach
Are markings of birds,
Little traces before flight,
Their steps to heaven,
Before rain washes away.

The stars are gleaming
To know us, but I only
Know you, what mystery
There is in knowing,
How flesh is temporary
And the eye eternal.

Please come be with me
Into breaking love dawn,
Please come to know me,
Grab hold of the wind,
Set me to flame like stars
Above, I only know you.

It's an old question.
Pilate asked.
Keats told us.
It's what we believe.
A lie is truth.
Some lies may coincide
With my truth,
But never quite the same.
There's always a bit of truth
In every line.

the damage
has already
    been done
by the time
  brass tacks
rise to
  the surface,
and all the pretty
maidens are stacked
   like Russian wooden
       nesting dolls,*
in an insatiable
  hunger, yearning
   to possess
     the most toys

dancer of the clouds,
ink of dream,
as if the sky, hushed
and utterly forlorn,
turned a pirouette.

I go to school
I sit in class
I love to write
But I hate math

Behind my desk
I try to add
I draw the shapes
I make the graph

Learn formulas
I get confused
It's much too hard
Too many rules

Daddy can teach
He goes to schools
He shows them math
He knows the rules

I leave the bus
Dad gets the door
"How was your day?"
"I learned some more!"

Dad says, "Good Job,"
And turns to leave
I yell out, "Wait!
Can you help me?"

Dad hesitates
He sits me down
I bring out math
He starts to frown

"How is this hard?
Here's what you do!"
I smile as he
Explains the rules.

"I get it now!
Let's do this one!"
"I have to go
But you have fun."

My daddy leaves
I wear his frown
I try the math
It's harder now

"Daddy come back!"
I start to yelp
"I'm sure at school
That they can help."

I go to school
I sit in class
I love to write
But I hate math

Behind my desk
I just can't see
Can Mrs. teach?
She's not Daddy

I raise my hand
I wait a while
"Can you help me?"
Mrs. just smiles

"It's not all wrong.
Here's what you did.
Let's try it slow
And get it fixed."

That's not so hard
That's kind of cool
I laugh as she
Explains the rules

"Mrs. please stay
For just one more."
"I'm glad to help!
It's not a chore."

Before class ends
We take a test
I'm scared but I
Wish for the best

I turn it in
I start to leave
"I'm proud of you!"
Mrs. tells me

I check my grade
Right by the door
An "A" in math?
What in the world?

I leave the bus
Dad gets the door
"How was your day?"
"I learned some more!"

Dad says, "Good Job,"
But doesn't stay
I yell out, "Wait!
I got an A!"

Dad smiles. "In math?
I'm proud of you!
Maybe one day
You'll teach math too!"

I'm really glad
I learned the rules
But math should still
Be banned from schools

Thank you Mrs.
For teaching me
Since my Daddy
Had to go.