Thursday, March 19, 2020

Balancing


Balancing

It is hard to main-
tain my balance.

Focus on the dos
instead of the don'ts.

Shake off the doubts about
the surety of my security.

Still, I keep my
sense of humor.

If I am going to fall, I would
rather fall down laughing.

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Tuesday, March 17, 2020

More Than Ever


More Than Ever

My time inside gives me hours to think.
Many thoughts may take one to the brink.
Become overwhelming in a blink.
Before I know it, my spirits sink.
Now, more than ever, I need to make art.
Share what's in my heart with pictures and ink.

This is a Welsh form called gwawdodyn hir

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Thursday, March 12, 2020

The Flower


The Flower

I see the petals now.
They are still wrapped
tightly together, but
I make out an edge or two.
Soon, they will begin to rise.
Give each other some space.
Stand and take the places
to which they have been assigned.
Become known as the flower.

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Tuesday, March 10, 2020

Afloat


Afloat

The leaves sit on the water and drift.
A gust of wind makes their movement swift.
Their positions shift as they float away.
Soon, the lake will give something else a lift.

This poem is a Welsh quatrain called gwawdodyn byr.

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Wednesday, March 4, 2020

The Petals Dry


The Petals Dry

After the storm,
the flower lets
the water roll off.

It welcomes
the warmth of
the emerging sun.

Lets the wind
give it
a little shake.

In time, the petals dry,
and the flower stands
under a clear sky.


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Tuesday, March 3, 2020

Bark


Bark

I am the suit of armor
tailor-made for the tree.
I stand against
the rain and wind,
the heat and cold,
the insects and animals.
My life has already ended.
In my afterlife, I
protect the place
I once lived.

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Thursday, February 27, 2020

Slipped Away


Slipped Away

The feather
simply lets go.
Whatever held
it to the body
doesn't anymore.

There was no attack.
This happened as
a matter of course.
Does the body know
what has slipped away?

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