Life is poetry in motion, written down at times. These poems were contrived while dealing with life daily. They are therapy to express spur of the moment feelings, thoughts that I have during the day and night; things I feel strongly about, humorous moments, thoughts of wonder, and just things that flit through my head. Sometimes we’re wise, and sometimes we're not. What I've said is what I've thought; some of it is wise, pang filled, silly, stupid, right, wrong, or whatever. I wrote what was inside that came out.
1-60836-734-7 - Scribblings of My Thoughts - $24.95 - 183 pgs
What's So Funny 1996
I laughed loudly and continuously with an attempt to enjoy t h e
moment.
Not many around me saw the humor or reveled in the scene. Have we all
the same eyes? Does a day happen to all of us at the s a m e t i m e ?
How many touches must we harbour before we feel?
My eyes saw clearly through the fog, the tangle
and the noise.
With all of my might, laughter was forced through my vocals.
I felt nothing yet continued to heckle.
In the midst of humor I wondered that no one focused on my view, nor
laughed also.
I know the sight wasn't invisible or obstructed from the eyes of all
present
yet I considered, why was laughter coming
from my mouth? Did the
crowd intimidate me or was my insecurity completely in control?
At the time, I was overwhelmed by the sight, and couldn't resist
reacting. later, I meditated briefly and concluded
laughter and happiness don't
necessarily coincide?
Kitchen Window 1995
What is a winter's day without a view?
My kitchen window has sixteen tiny frames
and on each pane snow has gathered.
I can peer through the whole
and see the big white blanket
hug the trees the ground
and
the porch so snug.
I can see the world through
each window a little differently.
They remind me of faces I've seen
one and all;
faces with different shapes
and colors and smiles
and even frowns, some.
Through my window,
everyday,
I can see the world outside
a little differently if I want to.
Oh, but people,
they're all the same even with different
shaped faces and colors and smiles
and even frowns, some.
Death the Vulture
Death is everywhere 5/28/04
prevaling
whithin to whithout,
no exceptionss.
As a venomous
vulture gorging
unsatisfied,
its reflection images a
beautiful woman
inspiring insatiable need
to engulf all her charms;
to devour her over again
and so much more.
In the darkest, deepest abyss;
on the loftiest precipice enveloped
by the searingest place, even
the coldest domain won't shiver icy death!
No amount of riches,
no rank, no man or woman
mattering in age or beauty
or repulsiveness can render
death at bay to stay.
All lie silent at the...
