working title

working title

my poem has a working title
I hope you don't mind
a working title
you see, is
something your unsure about
need the perfect word
to describe
nothing seems to fit
a working title
you see, is
something your trying out
testing ideas
thoughts
or emotions
i just realized something
my life is a working title

I just love this song

this may seem cheesy but just read these lyrics they are really pretty they are simple but they really do mean a lot

When somebody loved me,
Everything was beautiful
Every hour we spent together lives within my heart
And when she was sad,
I was there to dry her tears
And when she was happy,
So was I
When she loved me

Through the summer and the fall
We had each other, that was all
Just she and I together,
Like it was meant to be

And when she was lonely,
I was there to comfort her
And I knew that she loved me

So the years went by
I stayed the same
But she began to drift away
I was left alone
Still I waited for the day
When she'd say I will always love you

Lonely and forgotten,
I'd never thought she'd look my way
And she smiled at me and held me just like she used to do
Like she loved me
When she loved me

When somebody loved me
Everything was beautiful
Every hour we spent together lives within my heart

When she loved me

i think knot

I think knot

The climber and her problem
Tough as can be
She thinks about it
Slowly and very
Carefully
Finally she’s off
Up the sheer rock face
Like a spider but with
Elegance and grace
This is tough tougher
Than she thought
Should she turn back?
I think not

She uses all her strength
Jumps for the next rock
She wants to rest
But she is racing against
The clock
Her feet ache
Head is spinning
Arms feel as if





They might come off
But she is close
Oh so close
She is close enough
She cannot stop
She reaches
Grabs hold of the rocky edge
Pulls as hard as she can
And with her body
She does throw aloft

Victory!!!

lonley

Lonely

The broken swing at it swings on its
Rusty chain
At the park
Where no one visits
Anymore
The color
Faded from blue


To a chipped gray
The chains enveloped
In rust
One hinge completely gone

The three legged stray
Hobbles down the empty
Mountain path
With no one who cares
About him
Nothing to eat
Or no one
To love in return




The soldiers mangled bodies
Lay bloodied
And forgotten
In the valley
While the
Mothers, and brothers
Sisters and friends
Wait for a telegram
A phone call
Or even better the boy
Home and safe

the truth

The truth

The truth
You want to know the truth
What you overheard
Isn’t true
Well actually
I’m not sure what I think
I can’t make up my mind
You think what you want
I’ll be in the tree
Picking apples
For the rest of my life

in the place of

In the place of

He has a question mark
In the place of an eye
I wonder what happened
What has made him like that
He doesn’t seem sad
But troubled for sure
If I question longer
Would I have
A question mark
In the place of an eye

the days are numbered

The days are numbered

The days of sunny falls
Are numbered
We cannot play
In the pink light forever
The slow plucking sound
Of the base
Coming from the orphanage
The bunny with the clipped tail hops by
The girl who dances
With a glaze in her eyes
There is no time for tag
Even though the clean daisy
Sings
The diamonds will break
War will rage
We cannot play
In the pink light forever

mystery animal

Mystery Animal

Wild life workers hope
Doughnuts lure
Mystery animal
Whether thing in Florida is
An orangutan
Or a baby big foot
Animal stole
Jelly doughnuts
From a hunter
Sightings of big
Orange ball of fur
I cannot confirm
That it was not big foot
That is one possibility
I am exploring
Different ideas

time for now

Time for now

I feel the breeze whisper
On my cheeks
My lips parted
So ever slightly
My hair blows behind me
My skin white as snow
I hear the birds call
This is a time for now

highly personal

Highly personal

The picture was painted in a highly person manor
The pinks rosy
Purples majestic
The mist in the air as frosty as ice
The reflection
On the water
Of the moon
So clear
The gold lace on the edges
Faint in just the right places
The pondering expression
On the face of the
Wise man
A highly personal painting
Made for a friend

i the bird

I the bird

I the bird
That flies over your house
Diving down for the worms
To quench my babies hunger
My feathers shielding me from the harsh cold
The worms fear me
My beak and me
Curved sharp as knife
I soar in the sky
I can go anywhere
For the sky is my home
I am free to reign
In my open home
With a loan too big
To ever pay off
The sky is my
Mother
My father
Sisters and brothers
It is my babies’ mother too
We come from the sky






But also from the earth
Which feeds
Our worms
And our souls
Back to my thoughts
Of worms and earth and sky
And my children
I the bird
And I always will be

in the poetry room

In the poetry room

Art, poems, jellyfish, Elvis, Walt Whitman, and trees of mystery

Langston Hughes the great poet of Harlem hangs on the wall

Enjoi, crayons, and bodybuilders, Pillows, couches, laptops and shoes from the 50’s

All those things and me

In the poetry room

water sounds

Water Sounds


Do you hear the sounds of the stream?
The lazy music of joy!
Music to my ears
Trickle trickle ting ping ping!

Do you hear the sounds of the brook?
The trickling music of joy!
Music to my ears
Swish Swish moosh beep!

Do you hear the sounds of the river?
The rushing music of joy!
Music to my ears
Whoosh Whoosh bam boom

Water sounds