wearing
that
are you?
Oh
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‘We begin by loving our parents; ‘
‘later, we hate them;rarely if ever do weforgive them…’I’d like to live long enoughto forgive them;then,go somewhere whereI can tell them I love them,always did, always shall.
The cherry tree laughed –
no haiku poet!
I sing of punctuation….’What? ‘, you say,
and thus this modest goddess, clothed in grace,performs her holy task; unheard, unseen,except in trivial printed marks (- like this -)punctilious editors put in – or erase;yet, she’s the Sherpa to the mind’s high blisswho leads our thoughts to peaks of silent praise;immortal consort of the god of speech,handmaid of mind, bestowing measured pausebetween each…
Hey, Self – how do I know that you exist?
for what we hope our real nature is,those things about us which we’re proud to affirm?So, can we know you? How to start the search?A dictionary hardly gives the clue;Or are you always far beyond our reach?A mirage always ‘too good to be true’?Or, are you so close known, that we can prove –by dropping…
Your messages are so venomous,
that I would recommenda metaphysical health check:a subtle X-ray or better still, a Why-raymight show up something inthe spleen or in the bile ductbefore it’s too late forpoetic irony orpoetic justice
There’s a first time
said Godgiving the Wordto start it allthere’s a first timefor everythingI’ve just readyour poemsand I feel so goodthat for the first timeI laughed at Envy,kicked it around the room,laughed some more,kicked it some moreI feel so goodin the cornerthere’s Envy taking the countthanks