In Awe of Mobius and Klein
Poetry I continuously refine ...
I value love and kindness, honesty and involvement; the abstract and unknown fascinate me endlessly. Oddly, happiness is irrelevant ... even though I enjoy the pleasure of others and I love to laugh!
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Grounds For Puddles
Puddles. Stomping
grounds for rubber
boots or church-shined
shoes. Grounds
for oodles of delight
to smile in a flash
of white and a clash of flesh
off which impulses leap
and land in squeals
and a splash. Innocence
grounded in
grins and in screams
unleashed, as wiggles,
giggles, and tickles smash
and alight. Children
into puddles, like moths
to a light, ripple delicious
igniting like sparkles.
As if skyrocketing
souls up into the bright
rainbow hue of puddles,
childhood shimmers out of view.
grounds for rubber
boots or church-shined
shoes. Grounds
for oodles of delight
to smile in a flash
of white and a clash of flesh
off which impulses leap
and land in squeals
and a splash. Innocence
grounded in
grins and in screams
unleashed, as wiggles,
giggles, and tickles smash
and alight. Children
into puddles, like moths
to a light, ripple delicious
igniting like sparkles.
As if skyrocketing
souls up into the bright
rainbow hue of puddles,
childhood shimmers out of view.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
What Truly Is Love?
is love a feeling
moving mountains within us
slated to dwindle
is love fantasy
simply fabrication
designed by our mind
is love about me
and about you or does love
exist without us
is love in the void
between the substance of me
and you fusing us
is love just haiku
syllables strung together
lassoing the wind
moving mountains within us
slated to dwindle
is love a friendship
flamed by being together
being who we are
is love solely deeds
done for another freely
without thought of self
is love fantasy
simply fabrication
designed by our mind
is love genuine
a gift left by the roadside
without recompense
and about you or does love
exist without us
is love in the void
between the substance of me
and you fusing us
is love just haiku
syllables strung together
lassoing the wind
Sunday, January 18, 2009
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