written 1999
Thoughts, Swirling like mist, Obscuring Reality. Marginal distinctions
Soft, atramentous vapors Giving life to flowers as she exha… With sensuous breezes Sent deeply into ecstasy’s divine… Drawn fully on every breath she ta…
He lies on a pillow of dreamless n… In a bed of damaged feelings. He sleeps in a room of forbidden t… In a house of bungled dealings. He lives in a town of lost hopes,
Working in the fields, stopping To rest in the shade. Their son four, asked his Dad. “What’s the Best Drink of All?” “Son, I don’t know.
The wind is the tree’s very breath… Grand branches undulate Back and forth across a cloudless… Leaves flutter and shine like diam… As the tree continues its dance.
She watches a purple mountain, Silhouetted against a sky of blue, A sunset slipping behind her peaks… To signify another day is thru. The song of a lonely Bobwhite,
To look upon crystal blue skies, And see beyond with childlike eyes… To feel the joy with heart, wide o… And to lovingly employ that which… To know the power that is given to…
ROAM HIM, to see what lives so… His fear! He thinks you call it p… ASK HIM, his name and he’ll tel… Him the transparent silent tears h… FORGIVE HIM, of all his sins…
An hour of leisure in the garden Like a song expressless in words A symphony composed in heaven Sung best by soft winds and birds. Enjoy your leisure in the garden
As spoons in a drawer She has her pillow sleep And when her head falls From burdens deep It’s her pillow she finds
April 19, 1995 Tears from the heart Fell on this April day; For the dead and wounded In bombed out ruins they lay.
The eyes are a deep set brown The nose lies flat across the face… The eyebrows are in question form As she critiques the form before h… The image seen
He wonders now and quests in vain At two or three or four, Before the dawn has lit the pane Or crept across the floor. Is time a rose that plays them fal…
She is surrounded by people but sh… No one understands her or what goe… She has many friends and much fami… But the real her she can not let t… What if they were to laugh and tur…
People come and go, They are all passersby. Some come to show, A path on which others can rely. Some have come to build,