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
to grow.
Another poem written during my creative writing special course. My teacher liked it, but now that I read it I know it needs some work. New jeans are nice, but old jeans are better. Old shoes are nice, but new shoes are better. Why do they insist on new jeans and old shoes, When anyone…
Written in 1983. The wooden chips float to the floor at each stroke of the blade. The gnarled, old hands shape the stick of wood with an expertise only acquired with time. The metamorphosis of the wood is slow and subtle. but as time progresses a figure seems to come alive. A figure of an…
This poem came out of my grieving process when I lost my Dad in January 2011. Death, for the living, is strange Someone you love is there even if they aren’t a part of your every day life and then Suddenly the world goes “poof!” and they aren’t there anymore just echoes of memories And…
This was written May 18, 1984. I stand alone, as I always will. Friends come and go, but all the while I stand alone. Just a molecule of air, am I, tossed about by the wind. I see, and know, and love others but they go and I see, know and love more. Always there…
Written Feb. 7, 1983. I stay inside the dark and weary castle keep. It is lonely. I know loneliness. She is my friend. Outside is cold. There are many vicious things out there. The many pronged whip that beats on you until you’re a bloody pulp. The razor that slices souls. The knife that creeps…
The imagery of a lonely old house always grabs me. I take pictures of them when I see them. And they often put in an appearance in my writing. Here’s a case in point. Towering, it stands. Long driveway spirals down the hill. Forbidding, it sits on Grecian poles. Dark and lonely are its windows….