Table of Contents
Most Recent Posts
"If you don't inspire, you expire."
"It is a rare goal that has only one path."
"Life is too short for uncomfortable clothes!"
"Isn't it interesting how we often fight who we truly are, what we truly want and that which we truly deserve?"
"The more you appreciate, the more you have to appreciate."
"I know, therefore I am."
"Today is wonderful because I've chosen to see it that way."
Tag Archives: 1983
This poem was written in 1983 and published in the Spring 1984 issue of Metanoia, the Montgomery High School creative writing magazine. What colour is God? A child with milk mustache asks. Does God have a colour? Is the reply. … Continue reading
Here is another poem about D.B., written in 1983. Oh! How I love you, You little ball of fur. Your little booted feet, up to your little white chin. Your long, soft fur is a comfort when I’m sad. Your … Continue reading
Written in 1983. Shadows of images. Images of shadows. Ghost of my nightmare. Monster of my dream. Who are you who hides in my closet? Why do you stalk me? My veins are filled with fear of you. But then, … Continue reading
Written in 1983. Shiny orange turns to gray. Starts from black, some other way. Brings a light, so bright, so dull. Shines of warmth that is so cold. Are you Fire? Are you Ice? Or just an ember of the … Continue reading
Written in 1983. Life is: lessons to be learned dreams to be realized adventures to be experienced. The reason is: getting to know experiencing the new realizing the truth. I want to: learn know experience realize. I want, desire, need … Continue reading
Written in 1983. I am an atom. I make up molecules. I am a molecule. I make up tissue, bone and flesh. I am tissue, bone and flesh. I create a human being. I am a person. I make up … Continue reading
When I was very young, I created fire. I created rock tools, and the wheel. When I was in my teens, I learned agriculture, and made gods that ruled everything I did. When I was middle aged, I discovered that … Continue reading
Written in 1983. Wastepaper basket filled to the brim with wads of fresh, new paper. Desk cluttered with paper, ink and pencils. A slumped figure snores over a sheet of paper. The words “Once upon a time . . .” … Continue reading
Another teen angst filled poem from my High School years. I carry a great weight upon my shoulders as I walk upon the Road. I ask, “Will not someone help me with my load?” The mountains echo their unanimous reply, … Continue reading