You see an apple.
I see knowledge of a million years.
You see a circle.
I see life, death and rebirth.
Why do two people see so differently?
What makes one person see surface,
while another sees depth?
May this be a reason for war?
Which insight is right?
No one can say what is
Right, or what is Wrong.
No one is Right, and
No one is Wrong.
Written in 1983. Cobwebs hang from the drawers. The empty seat covered with dust sits abandoned by the desk. Death now sits here looking at thirty desks aligned in six rows. No more do children laugh in this place. No more does teacher teach the students. The Apple perfectly red sits untouched by dust or…
Written in 1983. I see an image made of dust. This is something I cannot trust. But what of broadswords that are thrust? Soon their valor turns to rust.
This poem was written March 14, 1997. It was a reaction to breaking up with my first lover because although I had fallen in love with him, he hadn’t responded in kind. No hard feelings … I just couldn’t stay in an empty relationship. How long does a broken heart take to mend? As long…
This poem was written Feb. 16, 1991. I suddenly had an image of a light purple rose lying on a pillow and created this. One Violet Rose laid upon my pillow as I came waltzing in on a string of a thought a wish My love, Thank you for your kisses Thank you for your…
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 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 . . .” are scribbled out on the top line. Looking closer at the wads in the basket,…