Should we feel we are lonely recall
Painful separateness feels like a fall.
We’ve our mothers to love,
Down here or above,
And a navel that links us to all.
Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 19: Mother.
The Beating Breath
Each breath comes in quest of some grail
With faith that the quest will not fail.
With passion unfurled
The warm, waiting world
Will beat with each breath we inhale.
Written for the Limerick Challenge Week 18: Passion
We All Move Toward Goodbye
White blossoms display in the sky.
Their home sold. The market was high.
Like making fresh room
For some new phase of bloom
The wind blows. We wave them goodbye.
Written for Limerick Challenge Week 17: Farewell
The Spell of Memories
My memories of you are a spell.
I’d forget, but there’s more I would tell,
Repeating, recalling,
Rewording, re-falling,
Re-blessing till all turns out well.
Written for the Limerick Poetry Challenge Week 16: Memories.
Warm Darkness Soothing Dreams
Out there where the darkness feels deep,
But warmth penetrates, cease to weep.
Choose some thoughts flowing free.
They’ll engage easily
As the air’s fresh and guides one like sleep.
Written for Limerick Challenge Week 15: Dark
Mysterious Monster
The monster who’s under my bed
Runs mysterious dreams through my head,
Makes me wake up and yawn
But at dawn he is gone
Like a word thought but then left unsaid.
Written for Limerick Challenge Week 14: Mysterious
Feathers
Whether a feather can help a bird fly
I wonder and doubt though that plane in the sky
Goes faster than birds and weighs more than they do
And that mystery’s something that bothers me, too.
Brief Wave of Symmetry
Some symmetries seem obvious.
A flat line helps reflexion.
The edge of light, sharp black with white,
Requests a close inspection.
It’s when we take that closer look,
Where unseen details stray:
Coins in the pool, gray trees, some fool
Gives symmetry away.
I Done Dug the Hole Deeper for the Outhouse
Some poetry’s like a dog’s bone.
It’s best if you leave it alone
Or bury it deep
Lest it put you to sleep
Or worse make you read it and moan.
Dualism
How does the one turn into two?
The many into one?
The background is a perfect blue,
The kind that one can see right through,
When one and two are done.
Poetry, Short Prose and Walking 