Monthly Archives: September 2016


Incessant movement
Of their untiring jaws
And the blowing winds

The Good Idea

An idea lay along the street
With writing on the side,
Describing all that it could do,
All that it had inside.
A man came walking down that street
And saw the idea alone
He read the side and knew at once
Where that idea should go
“Such a good idea!” he thought!
“It’s perfect for my dad!”
An idea, he knew without a doubt
Was the best he’d ever had.
He carried it straight to his father’s door
And held it up and said
“Dad, this idea is just for you!”
But his father shook his head
“It’s not that it’s a bad idea,
But I like this idea instead.”
The son looked past his father
And saw there on the floor
An old, somewhat dusty idea
He’d never noticed before.
He didn’t read the writing there –
He knew there was no need,
For his was a far superior idea
If his father could only see.
And so he told his father that
For hours (or so it seemed)
Until, at last, with a shake of his head
His dad finally agreed.
Happy, the son placed the idea up high,
Where everyone could see
And took away the bad idea
That he knew should never be.
And then he left his dad alone
With the new idea enthroned,
Wishing for a good idea,
Like the one he once had owned.

He Longed for the Moon

He longed for the moon
They scoffed: “It’s impossible!
And yet, which mouse
Found the cheese?

They Call It Respect

They call it respect
When they ask what she wants.
They call it helping
When they ignore what she says
Or simply replace it with
What they think is best
Arguing and arguing
Like walls, hard, unmoving
Until she accepts it,
And they get their way.

She calls it life
When her choice is ignored
She calls it pointless
When she tries to be heard
Or cries there in silence
Where they cannot see
Sinking and bleeding
Crushed by the word, “worthless,”
A word that not one of them
Would think she could be.


Feast your eyes, your mind
Beauty, dream, or
Injury – all incurably
Depend on the
Day and viewer, yet
Even one yielding may
Never cease to be.

A Slender Hope

Two delicate drops,
Matching chain, exquisite dress,
Slender heels, and hope

You Watch Yourself Move

You watch yourself move
Hands and legs.
Lips and lungs.
You walk. You wave.
You speak. You smile.
By habit or construct,
The signal is sent
With no feedback
No sensation or sentiment:
Detached, disconnected,
Unfeeling, uncaring –
As if all that once lived
Inside you has been stilled
Or killed

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