What is it about the trees
That so fascinates my mind?
What is it about their branches
That makes me want to climb?
What is it about the leaves
That makes me want to paint?
What is it about the trees?
Category: Short Poems
Parting book
If ever I should leave this blackened Earth
Do not despair, but to the heavens look
The brightest blues are my e’er-smiling mirth
On grandest clouds are writ my parting book
Summer noise
Drips and swishes
Howling dogs
Distant roaring engines
Sweaty faces
Brightest sun
Sights and sounds of summer
517 – Dry them for you
Your tears
Let me dry them for you
Your scars
Let me heal them for you
Your broken heart
Let me mend it for you
Your hands
Let me hold them
516
Here and there
I stop to wonder
Sometimes it hurts
Others it changes me
Words!!!
Words, words, words
Forever we’re mired in words
Some are true and some look it
But all just sound like words
514 – Heaven’s wrath
Heaven hath no greater wrath
Than sickness of the young
Stormy cloud is not so loud
As whimp’ring head, low hung
512 – The rain
The rain falls hard
As on a tin roof
It drowns out all
But thoughts in one’s head
Time, or not
There is no ‘time’
Nor ‘history’
For peoples through the years
Look in their eyes
And you will see
The same undrying tears
The landscapes morph
The buildings fall
But people stay the same
Forever lost
Each one and all
Is blind and deaf and lame
Things versus
Things grow
Things shrink
Things come and go as they please
Things move
Things stretch
Things are there and at once gone
They are not constant
Not strong
Nor grounded
Nor can they be relied upon
In short, they
Are nothing like
You, dear.
A Poem A Day 