“a true poet…”
“A true poet does not bother to be poetical.
Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.”
© 2011
“A true poet does not bother to be poetical.
Nor does a nursery gardener scent his roses.”
© 2011
“But he that dares not grasp the thorn
Should never crave the rose.”
“as does love bloom” Photo
© 2011
“Absence”
I have scarcely left you
When you go in me, crystalline,
Or trembling,
Or uneasy, wounded by me
Or overwhelmed with love, as
when your eyes
Close upon the gift of life
That without cease I give you.
My love,
We have found each other
Thirsty and we have
Drunk up all the water and the
Blood,
We found each other
Hungry
And we bit each other
As fire bites,
Leaving wounds in us.
But wait for me,
Keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
A rose.
Pablo Neruda
© 2011
“So we must join hands in the dew coming coldly
There in the hush of the wood that reposes,
And turn and go up to the open door boldly,
And knock to the echoes as beggars for roses.”
Robert Frost
© 2011
And then the day came,
when the risk
to remain tight
in a bud
was more painful
than the risk
it took
to Blossom.
– Anais Nin
© 2011
“The Rose That Grew From Concrete”
Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature’s law is wrong it
learned to walk with out having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping it’s dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.
© 2010
My life has become so chaotic
because I am nervous and neurotic.
I am so neurotic, I think I need a tonic.
My spouse says I have attacks of panic.
I’d stop if he’d be more romantic.
To lessen stress, I exercise, exercise, exercise.
My pain and pangs, I want to excise…
my fingers on the pc keyboard,
my feet on the Wii Fit white board
I want to be free, I want to be me, Oh Lord.
I never thought I would be bored,
but I am bored. I am Emma Bovary bored.
I want to reboot my system. I want to delete my missives.
I no longer want to miss him.
While the world wide web, the world has shrunk,
there are still black and white polarized skunks.
My mind sees shades of gray. It has grown.
I prefer emails to being on the phone.
My voice gets stronger.
I want to live, live, live longer.
I want to dance in ballrooms.
I want to have time to groom.
Chapter three has opened me.
A new world is waiting.
I don’t want carbon dating
of me and my relics.
Stop the movers from crating
me and my favorite works of art.
I do not want to be boxed in.
I am not ready to depart.
I wish to live while I’m alive.
©2010