TheseBeads

I find such comfort

Amongst the simple things

Words which mean nothing

Until strung together like

Beads on thoughts string

And then worn gaily

Complimenting even the dourest

Of days bringing color

Poem

Sometimes hermit sometimes shaman

Oftentimes swimmer frequently bather

Always thinking never knowing

I undress each day

And dip myself in

Words languid pond or

Witness dawns day of

Images and imagination conjuring

Spirits of my past

And my present into

These things called poems

CoupleOfThings

Things change they shift

Either those things abutting

Them adjust or break

They absorb or perish

Just like the sand

Is to the sea

We must understand that

Something is really nothing

Without those things surrounding

It and defining it

Heartbreak

I don’t think that

If I write ten

Thousand or a hundred

Ten thousand of poems

Will I ever expunge

The weight of my

Broken heart and only

Upon my own death

Will I at last

Be free and finally

Find loves comfort modicum

PrairieOak

And like a prairie

Oak I see you

Full of promising comfort

Standing there far off

A tower of plain

Providing me my respite

From the heat of

Life from the rain

Of despair and the

Cold of my loneliness

Sometimes laying at others

Shading once or twice

Huddling offering me safety

Leaving you standing there

I do know that

Others also find their

Place with you and

I am but temporary

But for now and

Until I am ready

With you beneath you

I shall stay here