Sweet and Bitter Stuff of Wonder
Brought to you by Mary K
a love poem
*****
In all things done and then undone
I’ve walked, and looked and waited, too
In truth believed, then un-believed,
For I was seeing and un-seeing you.
***
***
“How long will you love me?” they often ask,
“You always say that Love is forever.”
“Love IS forever,” my answer is clever,
“Its objects, however, won’t last.”
a slow down/never slow down poem
***
Take your time and save
your breath will thank you for this
relaxed ambition
***
an agreement poem
***
When I’m about to wake up, my fluffy kitten comes
Hops on my bed, turns on her purring;
Coils at my feet, then quickly moves,
And coils in opposite direction.
She comes before my waking
To secretly caress me,
For fear not to spoil me.
***
Beyond the roaring realms of sanity
A lesser god will rise to meet his fate
And trade conveniently with humanity
Most valued goods of flesh for pearls of faith.
***
a pro- poem
***
Pro-Pasta
They say, “Pasta’s bad for your health”
I say, “Pasta’s great for my mood”
They go, “Pasta ruins your diet”
“But then I am nice and quiet”
Eating T-bones and steaks is barbarity,
Civilised pasta and bread is calamity.
So, is health what we crave, or felicity?
Is truth more important than integrity?
a “looking for —” poem.
Looking for forgiveness
When you’re at the end of the road
It’s somewhat late for forgiveness
You don’t give it up,
For you can’t give it up.
What more can you hope for –
But the final remnants of you
To get cleaned
And stupefied
By the illusion that forgiveness really IS.
a metamorphosis poem
***
it is so weird to discover
(and then remember vaguely)
you were once a child
you dragged behind you mom
nagging or chirruping without
a thought about tomorrow
because “tomorrow never comes”
–
today you simply know
(by magic, you believe in virtuality)
you ARE the mom
and terrible tomorrows wait for you
to cease you credit-pay and lose your home.
a containment poem
If
If winter traps us naked
into its frozen clutch,
The crispy tips of pines
will be as spikes
Defiling our flesh,
so blue,
so stiff,
so numb.
–
But if it tucks us gently
beneath its glowing shawl,
Those tips
will be the sparks
Refilling our joy,
of home,
of hearth,
of heart.
Write a “ready to start” poem.
***
Freedom is…
“a matter of perspective” said a hero
And trotted on along his lonely road.