That scent still lingers in my sorrowful nose, My hands can still feel that gorgeous brown hair, The presence is faux as it can get, but I’m glad its there. I’m glad I can still be kissed in my dreams, And that familiar voice speaks when the evenings are still. I’m glad for my love, albeit its object is no longer real. Some say love dies when distance is great....
The secret to life is blatant, it’s exceptionally clear, It essential and its friendly – in fact it may be right here. It is loving and caring, it smiles and it laughs, It stays up late and takes mid-day naps, The secret to life, sometimes has a bad day, Sometimes it leaves when you want it to stay. This abundant thing is emotional and kind, It’s adorned sometimes with jewelry, sometimes with a mind,...
I’m a seventy year old man, With a sagging face that’s bearded white. Every time I close my eyes… I relive the horrible fight. My hands are feeble, My body’s failing, My mind is lacking, Yet my thoughts still prevailing. My family’s long since left me, With tears and a mangled heart, I retreated to a bench… It sits solidly in the park. I have found it to be more stable…...
The year is 2092; The world has really changed. Reality is quite askew- And society more deranged. Technology has taken over, Fat bodies now sit at home. People no longer get along- Most people live alone. Our minds are slowly fading. The new generations are lost- To laziness and loathsomeness… Technology has surely cost. Children are manufactured; Their parents are machine. The elderly are suicidal- Gone mad by what they’ve seen....
The tiny men marched on to fight, As the two towering brothers looked on in delight. Who was to win? Both thought they were. Deep down inside, the soldiers could not be sure. The soldiers – they thought of their lives back home, Of the women and children that were their own… Still they marched on, and still the were watched, The brothers getting anxious – though neither had yet ‘lost’....
Sex sells they say With passive voices As if there are No other choices. To degrade yourself- Why, it is ok, It is worth… The material pay. What of morals, Of self respect? These are things They do not expect. They think that things Must not be changing. It is not worth The humility of raging… Against the accepted, And the public view, They’d rather give in- It’s what they do....
If I could tell you what I knew- Or could speak of how I knew it – I would tell. If I thought it’d help, if I thought you’d listen- I’d enlighten you to all the times I fell. If there was some way I could learn your lesson for you, I would do so. Or if I could make life easier I would, but I can’t, as we both know....
It, like many, was a still clear night, The child held me with an arm. As she listened to her parents fight… Her heart beat furiously with alarm. One hand was squeezing me tightly, The other was in her mouth. She couldn’t understand, rightly, What the argument was about. Daddy hadn’t come home after school. He seldom did you see, And when he did come home, he was cruel....
There lies a valley beyond a hill- Or perhaps just beyond a windowsill- Where the child watching the rain, Can go and from worry refrain. The dances of the droplets abundant- The quiet sound never seems redundant. And, though few and far between- There is magic to be seen. How very imaginative and full of thrill- Is the world beyond the windowsill.
A helmet head and pilots goggles- Swimming through the breeze- As the battered wings of propulsion Keep afloat the slender body of green In an instant the bubble eyes zoom past my own- And look fiercely towards the air ahead. With feet extended and joints loosely locked- The insect lands swiftly upon its tiny black legs- Rested, a moment later, again quickly soaring- The dragonfly pursues its destiny — living to fly....