It’s not
the intellectual
who bays
at the
moon but
rather the
fool for
the thinkers
knows and
wonders beyond
whereas the
fool only
knows what
he sees
nothing more
never further
Category: Poetry
SoMuchOfThis
So much
so much
of this
makes me
oh so
much so
so much
that I
stop and
do remember
remember when
and who
and where
never why
for why
has no
place in
so much
HolidayTime
Christmas is
an odd
time for
you give
new and
decorate with
old Christmas
is I
guess just
like life
new brings
hope and
old brings
their happiness
Ornaments
Ornaments given
memories received
all mine
hung somewhere
on someone
else’s tree
bringing peace
ornaments are
like little
crystal balls
conjuring up
dreams fantasies
and hope
for a
better world
they never
grow old
just those
who gaze
upon them
they do
PoetryDoes (for Carol A.)
The beauty
of poetry
doesn’t lie
in the
mind of
the poet
writing it
but in
the heart
of the
one reading
it just
like snow
means little
to clouds
yet everything
to children
