I'm not extremely confident that my poetry is anything. I just write it because I have to. I don't edit very much. I don't rewrite. I don't strive for perfection because life is too short...and there is no such thing as PERFECT in poetry or life. So, there. I have given you my disclaimer, and at the same time set the expectations low. I'm off the hook! And so are you. Enjoy. Or not.
There's only 3 short poems to endure here. The last one being the most 'positive'- written today.
A few poems written recently on trains or during walks home... (listed chronologically):
If I cross a line
Where the boundaries are drawn?
Is the question
‘What part of me do you see
that I am blind to?’
Or is it
‘What part of you is blind to me?’
I have only the
Most miniscule inklings
Like the faith in a silent god
A defense mechanism
Preventing the harshest of falls
What Can Stop a Train?
The expectation of amnesia
Understanding we experience
Then choose to forget
Especially those things
That would force change
What we can’t change
The mind races along
A high-speed train in its dark passage
Grasping for nothing
But a steely track
If we could only
Brake, pause, seal in amber
The touch of skin
The knowledge of a line crossed for the better
A connection tender
Sweetness recollecting, tasted on lips
But what can stop a train
From plowing along its predestined course
Figures illuminated ahead on the tracks
Phantoms disappearing on impact
Wishes for you:
To discover a secret hidden message
Written on your window’s condensation
Carving out heat from autumn chill.
To find a forgotten 5 dollar bill
In last year’s coat pocket.
To discover a fresh route
To walk your way home
To find a capital M, Mystery
That unravels your heart.
To discover a gift that was never lost,
you didn’t know you possessed
Until it was too late to do anything
But appreciate its grace.