There was a man
who sat at the corner
bus stop.
Beside him was
a paper bag with cups
in it.
Why does he sit
at the corner bus stop
staring?
He is alone,
without a home to go
home to.
What does he see
sitting at the bus stop
alone?
He sees nothing.
There is nothing at all
to see.
Sometimes I feel
like the man at the cor-
ner stop.
This poem, published at poetry.com, was written in 1992 in response to someone I was gradually falling in love with. We had had a discussion about “love at first site” and this poem was the result. Love that comes quickly fades as fast Lasting love blooms slowly culminating in a rose before you knew there…
This poem was written sometime during the 1986-1987 school year. A fleeting glance A longing look quickly hidden no one will ever know no one should ever know Hidden feelings rip and rend in frustration emotional spasms tightly kept veiled Should anyone find out trap door opens in the heart as a futile escape from…
These two limericks were written in my diary on April 19, 1981. Yes, I am aware they don’t make much sense. 😉 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…
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 Feb. 20, 1991. You are most beautiful And my love for you is strong As strong as the stone from which you are made Voluptuous and cold Smooth and hard Your marble curves carefully lovingly made from the images of a dream In the image of The Goddess I made you…
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…
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