Category Archives: Life

Mark of time

We see others age and fade,
Never holding that mirror to
Ourselves. Their youth, even
Though they are younger now
As then, than are we, dwindles,
Lost in wrinkles. Our eyes see 
Only a twinkle of humor when
Looking upon ourselves. Our
Lines become us, theirs make
Them look old. We see others,
Never spying our face in the
Mirror of time passing, aging,
Fading, youth receding into a
Memory of our years gone by.

Working, another way

Poets are not a lazy gazy lot, I can 
Attest as I am hard at work putting pen
To page, in the metaphorical custom of
A digital age. I write in deep reflection, thinking 
Hard of what it all means, all– I
mean 
To say– is life itself from beginning to an end we 
Do not want to imagine or foresee, foretelling with the
Same foreboding you feel, an 
end I 
Can see is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my doings, coming and 
Goings, as carefree as if there were not
An end in sight.
Working

Working

Poets are not a lazy
Gazy lot, I can attest
As I am hard at work
Putting pen to page,
In the metaphorical
Custom of a digital
Age. I write in deep
Reflection, thinking
Hard of what it all
Means, all-- I mean
To say-- is life itself
From beginning to an
End we do not want
To imagine or foresee,
Foretelling with the
Same foreboding you
Feel, an end I can see
Is inevitable even as
I enjoy my walk and
Indulge myself in my
Doings, coming and 
Goings, as carefree 
As if there were not
An end in sight.

Unravelling

Living is a long thread 
Of yarn, sometimes in
My favorite color, a red
So bright and vibrant it
Leaves no mystery but
Can always be found.
In subtler moments, a
Quiet beige blends into
The corners, teases but
Never tempts or stands
Out, not flagrant or bold.
The yarn makes patterns
It clumps in soft places.
The defiance gone from
It after days of following
Its destiny. Color mixes,
Dulled by the passing of
Time, only hinting at its
Fullest force.

Poem of peace

Peace is a big goal. The
Kind of thing that calls 
For all the New Age stuff
I can muster but find it
Wearying. It's a letting be
I look for, have looked for
And sometimes found
Floating in the bubbles
In my glass of soda or
Under the soles of my 
Footfalls

What do I know?

Italics on the do and on the know

Letter to myself, and,  
Clearly, others. This 
Letter may prove long.
A letter is long; it is not
«Note to self,« where 
The "my" is omitted,
Left out because self- 
Explanatory. Or just in
The interest of brevity.
Abbreviations often are,
Brief, that is, in the hope
Of being brief or briefer.
Letter to myself, to get
Back on track and no
Shortcuts, in the interests
Of brevity, of shortening
The inevitable advice, the
Words of wisdom gained
From the years the future
Inexplicably, relentlessly
Piled on, is time now to
Be my teacher, or yours.
Note to self, explore this
Further and farther as 
Time passes. Back to that
Letter to myself, have I
Learned nothing from so
Many years of living? Do
I, must I hesitate to share
Some grain of enlightened
Understanding, my hard 
Scrapped knowledge? Is
Knowing necessary? Or
Knowing better? Am I 
Here to share insights 
That you, too, may have
Made, even some in your
Younger years, your teens
Or thirties? What did I 
Know in my forties that
Wasn't obvious when I
Turned eighteen? Was I
Smarter at 50 than I had
Been then? Are you? Oh,
Remember, I write this to
Myself, not you, not you,
Necessarily, but do play
Along. I was a ridiculously
Serious child. Did that fuel
Frivolousity, okay, not a
Word, as I matured? Am
I so much wiser that I can
Leave hints, the bread 
Crumbs of a life best lived
On your doorstep? A letter
To myself from now to 
Then. From now to Zen?

Stardust III

Let's face it, I don't get the 
Science. It's the poetry of
Stardust running through
Our veins, pumping iron
To redden our blood; the
Chemistry eludes but then
Alludes to include us all, 
All of us universely in the
Universe. In each other.
We are all part and particle Embodiments of the stars Exploding in our veins, in 
Us. Chemically we unite
With star dust, with every
One, all of us as one. We 
Are all star dust come to 
Life. That's the science, and
The poetry. To be star dust
Is to be human. To shine.

There are three star dust poems, all inspired by a conversation between Leah Smart and NASA’s Michelle Thaller. The science that I (mis)quote is real. You/We are all star dust!