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.
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…
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.
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…
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…
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…
Written in 1985. I’m in a box. I’ve been here a long time. There’s no way out. All eight corners are the same. All six sides have been scrutinized. I stare in hopes that I might see something new. Maybe there are pores with minute creatures living inside. If I look long enough maybe I…