Poetry is the language
Of the ancient and
Children minds free to
Wander dream and think
Poetry confuses those middle
Minds taught to follow
For poetry never explains
But simply quietly suggests
Where you might go
Recognize
What I need now
More than anything else
Is the time to
Settle in for winter
And wait for spring
This is what happens
When love freezes over
And waits for someone
Else to warm it
With wink or nod
Or even a hello
Like a daffodil recognized
Amidst the winter’s garden
There’sNoMore
One of the
Saddest sounds is
The scraping of
Utensils at the
Bottom of the
Pot or bowl
Because you know
Right then that
Whatever delectable feast
That you enjoyed
Is now nothing
More than memory
Remember you might
Recall you may
But no matter
How you try
You know that
No two pots
Of anything are
Ever really alike
So enjoy what
You can and
When you can
Until that is
There’s no more
HooBoyGladThat’sOver
Sometimes you just
Have to accept
That the cards
Aren’t being dealt
In your favor
Or that you’ve
Eaten too much
Of too many
Things or even
That the evening’s
Date isn’t going
As well as
Planned that at
Some time you
Cash out push
Away or pay
The tab with
At least your
Minimum self respect
Still in tact
Open
I wonder why
You kiss others
Is it because
I’m not there
Do they look
At you like
I do straight
Into your eyes
Like I’m staring
Down a charging
Rhinoceros stopping you
In your tracks
Or do they
Look down or
Over or behind
Like they’re trying
To decide whether
To try you
On before buying
Or is it
That I’m too
Much I cherish
Too much I
Treasure too much
When sometimes you
Just want to
Be a commodity
Casually bought and
As quickly traded
For someone else
