ASSORTED POETRY FROM OVER THE YEARS

FIRE AND SNOW

Sun and clouds

Fire and snow.

A yellow ball of fire
To burn, yet warm
Man in his harsh, cold existence.

A fluffy mound of snow
To comfort man as he
Lies on his back in summer grass.

Relaxing, cooled, from the heat of the fire.

THE OLD PIER

A place to dream
is a fishing pier
on a beach with the salty air
uplifting your curls,
flinging them about.

WALKING AFTER RAIN

The washed grass and
thirst-quenched flowers
Open their eyes and arms
as I walk beside them--

Glorious and thankful
for summer rain.

FORGIVEN ANGER

Angry waves crash relentlessly
Against the gentle shore;
Angry at the peace
Reflected there.

The gentle shore
Receives the crashing whitecaps
And forming foam--
Sending it back to its home.

Forgiven and calm.

REBIRTH

The sun is so hot!
It burns my face and arms, and blinds my eyes.
Then a cloud
The world is cool.
The clouds rumble and the rains fall.
The world sighs, slowly sinking into a steam bath.
The rains cease.
The clouds are silent.
The world rises up--
Clean, refreshed, ready for a new experience.

GOODNIGHT

Two little words that say what volumes have tried to say and can't, but that can never say what eyes can.

HEARTBREAK

I'm looking out on the world with a heart
Laden with dreams.
Dreams which I may never see.
Dreams which man may never know.
And my heart is heavy.
If only it were empty--with no impossible dreams!
Ah, but then it wouldn't be a heart at all!

ALONE

Stars danced overhead with no regard for my sadness.
The moon smiled on lovers with no regard for my unlovliness.
Fireflies chased one another with no regard for my loneliness.
It is dark.
It is silent.
It is sad.
It is me.
Alone.

POEMS TO ONE FAR AWAY

I:
It would be, love, so good to see your face.
Not even to touch or speak,
But to see you standing there--
And know you were just so close.

II:
I'm coming home.
Soon you'll see the train or plane come into view--
I'll be on it. I'll be there.
But if it doesn't stop--do not despair.

For I was there, I was close.
For a moment.

ON THE DEATH OF MY HUSBAND

It is over now--
The quiet music, the gentle words.
Life must go on as before,
Yet it takes a mightly effort.
Forget a smile, a word, a touch--
Forget a day, a month, a lifetime;
Together--now alone.
I yearn for the sound of a voice now stilled;
The touch of a hand now cold.

MY PILLOW

My pillow knows.
My pillow has softly brushed away the tears and caressed my cheeks.
then carried me into a world of dreams: helping me forget.

My pillow has stood by while I pounded and beat myself into sleep,
and has enveloped those beatings into itself: helping me forget.

My pillow has silently watched me turn from tears of pain to tears of joy,
and has mixed those tears: helping me forget.

My pillow has seen hope give way to despair,
and has quietly retained hope: helping me forget.

My pillow has shared dreams,
and has kept them locked deep inside: helping me forget.

My pillow knows.
But pillows can't speak.
But then, words don't really matter.

EYES OF LOVE

Looking at you through the eyes of love, I miss your faults--can you tell?
Your cruel words - not meant to, but hurting.
Your bitter laugh - biting into my inner mind.
Your shallow mind.
All faults I do not see.

Looking at you through the eyes of love I see your beauties--can you tell?
Your generosity with children.
Your patience with the aged.
Your kindness to those in need.
All beauties I see.

Faults and beauties.
Though I see them both, the eyes of love see only the good.
Sometimes I think the eyes of love should be the only eyes.