I just found this while cleaning out some clutter:
Falling, falling, gone
The leaf breaks free from the tree
My grief consumes me
I don’t know when I wrote it, but wanted to make sure I documented it somewhere.
Originally posted on 52 Haiku
This poem was written Feb. 8, 1991. At the time I had a crush on one of my co-workers, a compact, handsome Indian man named Sanjay. He had the cutest nose! I wrote quite a few poems while I had that crush, and Sanjay will always have a special place in my heart. Your lips…
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 watchful eyes help me see clearly that you love me as much as I love…
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 comes from my writing journal. It is more a random thought than a poem, but is poetic in nature so I share it here. The death of a loved one lingers at my side like the specter of memories not to be. It’s not that I wish to forget them, but if I…
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. Mother looks at her young offspring. A loving look met by confused eyes. Is God…
Written in 1984. Love lost. Love gained. It’s all a matter of time. Friends come. Friends go. There is always more. Nothing is Forever. Except the one Self. You always will be you, though the rest may go. Others will come, That I know.