There once was a very cool cot
Who was always smoking pot
He was so high
He thought he could fly
But now he is forgot
Many people don’t know if
Or why he jumped off the cliff
But I know why
He thought he could fly
But that is a very big if
Written in 1984, this is another expression of my grief of losing my grandmother. Loss. A missing piece of the puzzle. A knot in the throat. A Demon in the gut. An unfulfilled need. A missing. A not there. A silent scream. Anger. Grief. Deprivement. A barrier to cross some day Yet crossed by another…
Busy, busy, swamped! There is so much to do. ARG! Flat out occupied! Hmmm. I guess my busy life is beginning to get to me. Originally posted on 52 Haiku
Pumpkin on the porch Welcomes autumn to my home Soon the leaves will follow Originally posted on 52 Haiku
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, who is the fear-filled one? Is it I? Or is it you? Maybe it is…
Here’s a limerick I wrote during the 1984/1985 school year that was inspired by a pen. The pen is a remarkable thing, you know. It writes with such an easy flow. The colours it comes in are endless. The things you can do, tremendous. There are even pens that glow, ya’ know.
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…