Category Archives: Poetry

In Frozen Turmoil

Shift after shift,
The fields change.
Moment by moment.
Past and future
Merge then diverge.
A sturdy compass,
Once true,
Now argues with stars.
Now agrees
As real shifts.
Do stars lie
Or merely hide?

The ship’s rudder twists
And turns and bends
From side to side
And path to path,
Loosed from the wheel.
Freed to the fates.
The currents pull.
The winds push.
Fore, aft –
Nowhere.

The ship flounders,
Its path uncharted
As lies and right
And truths and wrong
Battle and dance –
Stirring the storm
And casting the ship
Forward, back, and beyond
In frozen turmoil.


A Definition

He cannot mow like he used to do.
He cannot climb or clean the roof.
He cannot calculate or pay the bills.
He cannot remember to take his pills.
He cannot repair or drive a car.
He cannot find home if he goes too far.
He cannot find plates or cups or food.
He cannot articulate his wants or mood.

Except to say, “I’m worthless.”
Oh, that – that he can do, and
As he defines it, yes, it’s true.
What of your definition?
For him? For you?


And So

Planted and tended,
It grew until abandoned –
Dormant and waiting.


A Hundred Years

If I could live a hundred years
The way that I am now,
I’d rather live a shorter time
And improve it all somehow.


Rain’s Viscosity Demonstration

A liquid full of solids.
Rain’s viscosity demonstration.
Full of slippery steps,
Strange noises, worms,
Dirty floors, and extra work
For the washing machine


Parallel Tasks

Parallel tasks,
Like parallel lines,
Never touch –
Unless they are one.
And though many forget,
By chance or by choice,
Their direction
Includes more than one.


Without Dreams

A life without dreams
Drifts like a rudderless ship
Tossed by restless seas.


A Generation

I have little money.
I barely get by.
I work multiple jobs.
I have little free time.
I do not feel strong.
I’m emotionally spent.
How can I right wrongs
When I can’t pay the rent?


Anger Is Not Permission

Anger is not permission.
Neither is a crime.
The fact that you want to
Or that others agree
Does not make your actions fine.


Is Hope a Coil of Metal

Is hope a coil of metal,
Kinetic energy held at bay?
Is that coil still eternal
Once flat – its energy gone away?
Or is hope a fall of water,
Rushing from a hole in the ground?
Could it be if the rushing can stop
And no water can be found?
Or is hope a little seed
That sprouts to grow some more?
Until that cycle of seasons breaks –
Spring eternal rather than four.


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