Don’t mess around.
Whatever you are doing,
do the hell out of it.
Do not mess around.
Whatever you are doing,
play with all your heart.
For the second time
in sixty years, I’m beset
by Agent Orange.
What is the one thing
I can do today to help?
I can practice peace.
I’m aiming mostly
for calm, happy, content,
not cool, rich or desirable.
Nirvanna
You pout,
a kitten cries,
fog curtains the sun.
————————————
Cycles (a Tricube)
It’s raining
but that’s fine,
it’s needed.
Flowers bloom,
with rain, yes.
and with love.
Summer will
soon be here.
Dry will come.
Today’s prompt for National Poetry Month is to write “from where I’m
sitting “… my attempt…
17’s From Where I Am Sitting
Wondering what I
was worried about last year
at this very time
Have I expressed love,
today, yesterday, ever?
Now’s a good moment
Have I forgiven,
today, yesterday, ever?
How about right now?
When there is unease
in my life, it is because
my thoughts are fearful
I try to keep my
thoughts and actions agreeing,
harmoniously.
Adding peaceful thoughts,
feelings, words and right actions
to a needy world.
My friends, may you be
safe, at peace, happy and free
from all suffering.
I am not living
the life I imagined.
This one is far better.
I’m on a path which
I never anticipated.
It’s pretty cool.
I try my utmost to
show my spiritual self
as harmlessly as I can,
yet I feel the need sometimes
to do more than my best.
One of those times is now.
Still, I'm happiest,
when I bring
everything I have.
We are all
just passing through.
Might as well do so
with joy and laughter,
rejoicing in the day,
walking more slowly,
maybe even feeling
a little groovy.
Old men can’t help themselves,
it’s the nature of the beast,
the looking back,
the wondering about change,
about the passing of time.
No matter the age we make,
one can’t forget the days,
the unfettered joys shared
with friends
that time has taken.
Still,
There is nothing I would change
about my life, even if I could,
because it all brought me to her.
There is nothing else I would build,
not from paper, stone or wood,
except that which created me and her.
There is nothing I could say,
not even if I should,
that speaks louder in me than her.
There’s much to be learned in this age,
at this age as well.
A little loss of sound can be a blessing,
a chance to return to the
remarkable self-absorption of youth.
This is a time for connection,
reconnection as well,
visits, phone calls, letters, cards and
e-mails, in that very descending order
of intimacy, and it really is too bad,
what that e-mail thing has done to
letter writing, ancient and loving art.
Visits require some degree of readiness,
at least a clean bathroom, but
phone calls, especially the random ones,
can find you in your pajamas,
heck, even on the toilet.
Cards are okay, when one does not
have time for a letter, but
letters have more heart, give more time
to the writer to be reflective,
like a poet,
searching, reaching, looking
for just the right words.
A writer of letters gets to reflect,
to muse a bit about the addressee, to
remember precious moments, to dream of
better moments yet to come,
maybe even to plan some, and say so.
It is a peaceful activity, letter writing,
perfect for the cocoa and comforter
days of winter’s end.
