#day28
Here I sit, collecting sunsets
while you are away from me.
I dissolve my silly regrets
in steaming mugs of tea.
I’d miss you more, I think
if it weren’t for the playful sea.
The waves tease me with a wink –
I’m easily distracted, you see.
The weather has been great,
these days I’m almost happy.
So I enjoy myself while I wait
for you to come back to me.
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:46 AM UTC
How do you do?
I am here for you.
Simple for me to say,
I am a container of dismay
After Thursday.
What is good poetry,
what is a good poet,
(s)he is a teller of stories in verse,
s(he) makes music out of sounds,
(s)he explores tension and boundaries,
s(he) undresses your sensibilities,
(s)he has a heart tapped into broken vessels,
s(he) can cry while in the midst of a write,
(s)he writes poetry for others, almost always from the self
s(he) can write love with a thousand different metaphors,
but chooses not so to do.
(s)he loves language, maybe more than self, has as many
books as dust on the shelf.
s(he) is a quiet observer, with no remorse for putting into
words what the sky says to the child, what the man
hears from the Earth, what a woman knows about
birth and the pains of life as well, that no man would
survive and too the wisdom found as one walks along
the garden path.
(s)he knows that poetry is readily available, simply by being
vulnerable and sometimes obtuse.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC
if one day,
I am away,
worry not.
if in two or
three days,
there are
no words,
no write,
I am all right.
if a week
becomes
two and s t r e t c h e s
the ache…
to a month
or two in
you.
I have gone
across
the Rainbow Bridge,
to the Other side,
with no regrets…
save not knowing
you, as one of this
Warriors conquests.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC