Poems, Personals, and Commentary

Archive for August, 2016

I Can’t Make You

I can’t make you change,
I can’t make you see what I see,
But I can love you.

We don’t see eye to eye,
Sometimes you make me cry;
But I can love you.

I’ve given up the fight
Of trying to prove I’m right –
But still I love you.

Don’t have to have my way,
And maybe I can stay,
And learn to love you.

I can’t make you love me,
I can’t make you like me,
I can’t make you understand me,
I can’t make you agree with me;
But I can accept you.

The Reason I Garden

I have a passion for plants and gardening. Perhaps this video will explain why:

Please pray for the boy in the video.

Transition

A new day is dawning;
Transition begins.
The bright butterfly
From chrysalis transcends.

What once upon
The earth did crawl,
Spreads glorious wings,
Though frail and small.

It’s A Wonderful Life

[ This poem coincides with
the theme of the movie
“It’s a Wonderful Life”. ]

I wasn’t rich
Nor too well known;
Not many people
Knew my home.

Not stunning,
Nor too much to look at —
Might even say
I was a bit fat.

But should I say
I wasted time,
If for a while,
I made you smile?

If for a while
I eased your cares,
And let you know
Somebody cares?

If once
I made you laugh
And then,
We both began to laugh again?

No one’s a failure,
As they say,
If he has friends
Who by him stay.

Ocean Fantasy

“Come down to the sea”,
The seagull cried —
And suddenly,
I’d shrunk in size!

I sat upon
The seagull’s back;
Clung to his feathers
Snow-white, flat.

We soared above
The teal-dark waves,
O’er foam that covered
Sailors’ graves.

O’er jagged cliffs,
He took me far;
Then took me low
To spy sea stars.

Oh, happy time
I spent that day —
Above the sea,
Above the waves.

If You Can’t Live by the Ocean


I’d Like to Give …

I’d like to give you

This Just In!

This just in:

Many of us are scared little children running around in adult bodies.  The sooner we can recognize this, the better.

Sadly Seeing

It is my way
Of sadly seeing.
My temperament,
A type of being.

A melancholy
View of life.
I tend to see
The sadness, strife.

Don’t think you ought
To be like me.
It’s good that others
Flowers see.

But if my tears
Will help you care —
That is the reason
That I share.

Or to let go
Of burden borne.
We’ll share the load,
Not be forlorn.

The Lonely Redwood

[At this time of year (late July, early August), the redwood tree next door
 is continuously dropping its cones on the ground.]

All day long
The redwood rains.

Its cones, they drop
On concrete,
Wood, and dirt,
On tiled roofs,
On weedy grass.

It is their task …
To reproduce,
To bear much fruit —

But, alas …
They’ll rarely come
To new green shoot.

The lonely redwood
Planted there,
In city, town,
In suburb brown,
Will boast a solitary crown.

No seed will sprout
On concrete, wood,
On tiled roofs,
But maybe dirt,
Or weedy grass.

Then soon is trampled
Underfoot —
No room for more.

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