“A poem is the very image of life expressed in its eternal truth.”
Percy Bysshe Shelley

Monday, July 29, 2013


Cleft from the mainstream,
I turned into The Other,
not quite a good fit.

Forced to reinvent
my roles and relationships,
I sought a new me.

Prompted to value
the transformation life brought,
I release the past.

Friday, July 26, 2013

A Broken Support System

I cling for support
to a broken link about
to snap off cleanly.

Rusty and flimsy,
my link still enables me
to think I am fine.

I look around me.
Are there other links to grasp?
None seem stress worthy.

Monday, July 22, 2013

A Resilient Spirit

It may well feel like
the ultimate betrayal
when your body fails.

Out the window goes
all the motivational
facile self-help spin.

A point will then come
when finding no sure way out,
you get creative.

Friday, July 19, 2013

If I Feel Low

gentle guitar chords
sing through the air of my grief
seeking to lift me

bell-like the notes ring
though cannot deny the truth
that tears can take wing

would that the music
helped me find the fulfillment
of early promise

Monday, July 15, 2013

Nonstop Rain

It keeps raining here
dismal and unrelenting
tiresome and taxing.

I should be grateful.
Nonstop drought could be much worse.
I miss the sun though.

I suspect I might
complain about too much heat
if no rain showed up.

Friday, July 12, 2013

There Somewhere

It does not take much
to remind me of losses
suffered and to come.

As an antidote,
I sift through layers of ash
for the uncharred gift.

Life’s light, joy, and hope
surely must be there somewhere.
I keep on searching.

Monday, July 8, 2013

Always Transforming

The icicles drip
steadily as the air warms.
Do they know their end?

With the sun rising,
icicles break off and fall,
a steady clatter.

Remnants on the ground
turn into ice or water,
always transforming.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Unable to Choose

Do I tell myself
disaster fast approaches
I must hunker down?

Do I cling instead
to searching for solutions
that might buy me time?

Hoping for the best,
I stiffen my back and hope.
I hide and fight both.

Monday, July 1, 2013


I stagger and fall.
Impaired equilibrium
makes me look tipsy.

Walking aides help me,
cane, rollator, and wheelchair.
I prefer walking.

I may resemble
a bumbling drunken sailor.
At least I can walk.