Category: poem

i love how words

i love how words
fold around each other like a hug
or brawl like siblings
or caress like lovers.

words are alive
words are music
words are battlegrounds
words are wedding beds

i have nothing more to say;
i have everything to say.
i have the words
or they have me.

Every shade of every color has a word.
Every day is a poem.
Storm clouds gather
and storm clouds scatter
and the words rage on
until the winds calm
and all is peace.

To Do

What am I going to do with this day —
                    this most amazing day —
This day unlike any that came before
                    or will ever come again?

Am I up to it? Can I handle it?
Will I know what to do with what I find?

How will I know if what I find 
is what I’m meant to find?
How will I know if what I do
is what I’m meant to do?

I guess I won’t know
       unless and until
       I find it or I do it.

All I know for sure about this amazing day
is that it never happened before
and will never happen again.

a stack of things I haven’t done

In case you don’t generally click the “Related” posts at the bottom of the page, here’s one you missed yesterday, originally posted Aug. 6, 2024. I don’t remember writing this but I’m glad I did.

I could take a dog for a walk through the forest and the fields,

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

I could go to a beach and watch the waves come in and stick my toes in the sand, 

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

I could read a book full of adventure or insight or both,

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

I could listen to music or make some,

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

I could get in the car and not stop until I reach a place I’ve never seen,

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

I could call some old friends or write them a note,

but there’s a stack of things I haven’t done.

For every impulse I have to do something wonderful,

there’s a stack of other somethings I haven’t done.

When I’m breathing my last, it won’t be all said and done — 

there’ll be a stack of things I haven’t done.

And so I walk with the dog and I find me a beach,

I listen to music and write an old friend,

because the stack of things I haven’t done must wait a little longer while I go live a life.