About You

The day

I write

a poem

about you–

then

I’ll start

considering

love.

 

Until

then,

leave it

on my front step,

off with the paper

and my morning coffee;

let me read about it

in books,

watch movies

that make me cry.

 

I don’t know why

this song

keeps on singing,

over and over

in my head–

now remind me again

of that thing called love.

 

“A watched pot never boils,”

and well– a docked ship

never sinks

but land never did make

for a skilled sailor.

 

I will flip through these pages

and keep dipping my ink,

deeper and deeper

into my mind

until one day,

perhaps,

my heart

finds

its way

out.

 

February 24, 2016

You

So you–

you–

want to write a poem?

 

Start by walking out your front door

and saying hello to every face you meet:

bird in the sky,

leaf on the lawn,

a summer wind falling gently over you

and you still–

still–

want to write a poem?

 

After an over-worked day at the office

gray cubicles and clear ice cubes clinking

on paper cups I just want to make sure

I’ve heard you right:

you,

who wakes up every morning

just to paint the sunrise;

you,

who tallies ticket orders

and buys Christmas presents,

builds log cabins

and feeds the homeless;

you

who has ever wondered

what your place is on this Earth–

you

want to write a poem?

 

The Earth hears your beckoning,

is waiting for you

to open up

open the door to your soul

and realize that man-made

will always have its limits…

the mountain peak will always

surpass Mountain Dew

and wild thoughts fall flat

onto to the blue horizon,

spread out like a quilt

nature made just for you.

 

Hear it whisper,

my dear,

that beating in your heart.

 

You mustn’t

simply

write a poem.

 

You are the poem.

 

December 9, 2015

In Me

Like a tree,

there is a poem

in me,

whispering away

until May,

covering the Earth

with mud and clay–––

filling silence

and swaying

until it turns the same gray

it was yeterday, mixed

in dust all along

shys away, like veins

they are my branches,

write traditional rhymes

to fill all of my lines

because beauty

out of nothing

is everything you see,

like time melting away,

into me.

April 19, 2014