I’m Going To Write Poems
by | posted in: change, daily poem, meta-poetry, poetry | 0

I’m going to write poems.
I’m going to sit on my butt and write poems.
I don’t care what you say,
I don’t care what you need,
I’m going to write poems for these people to read.

I’m going to write poems.
I’m going to look at this room I call home
and I’ll find in this mess
something worth thoughtfulness.
I’m going to write poems and I’m not going to stress.

I’m going to write poems–
set my chair in the sun and write poems.
Cobwebs clear from my head,
welcome poetry instead.
I’m going to write poems that ought to be read.

Savory
by | posted in: daily poem, difficulty, love, poetry | 0

Every sweet thing can be wrapped in red

and every sweet word can fit on a card
but better than sweet is savory
like a promise to do what is hard.

Love Is Like the Thread
by | posted in: carpe diem, daily poem, love, poetry, rest | 0
If it’s true that fools rush in,
I’d rush for you all over again.
It seems that rushing’s always been
a way of life for us.
But between the many road trips
without time for scenic exits
and the passports, visas, tickets,
and jostling in the bus,
it seems that we’ve become a family.
I’ve grown up and you’re more manly.
It may look like we’re just standing,
when really we’re taking a breath.
And when we breathe, we start to dream,
and you know all seven dreams I mean–
our minds come together like a seam,
and love is like the thread.
And we’ve both done it, so we know
it’s not worth rushing when you sew.
At least today, let’s take it slow
and save this stitch in time.
Let’s save each penny that you earn,
and savor every chance to learn.
I’ll say, may your heart always yearn
to be stitched tight to mine.

She Waits For Love
by | posted in: daily poem, love, poetry | 0

She waits for love like Valentine’s Day,
but even on that day it doesn’t rise.
Instead, like every day he waits for her.
And neither will see through the other’s eyes.

How Do We Know That Spring Will Come
by | posted in: daily poem, hope, nature, poetry | 0

How do we know that spring will come?

It might get colder and colder.
In May we might be shoveling
through snow up to our shoulders.
In August we might start to pack
to move towards the equator,
wondering if we’d ever come back–
if spring were coming later. 
In October we might ask ourselves
what to call this long new season.
At the second Christmas this winter,
we might be un-merry (with reason).
And by next February,
this might be getting old.
But I know that soon the spring will come,
so I won’t grump about the cold.

I Would Have Never Known
by | posted in: baby, daily poem, ideas, meta-poetry, poetry | 0

You always eat in the middle of the night
but I should never complain.
When else would I stop and realize
these thoughts within my brain?
You eat and eat and go back to sleep,
but I’m left wide awake.
I’m hungry, too. (That’s nothing new.)
I have a fast to break.
And I have hypotheses to try
and words to write into poems.
These midnight hours are full of ideas
I would have never known.

Happy Birthday, Brother
by | posted in: change, daily poem, family, poetry | 0

It’s hard to think that you’re not much older than me.
It’s different now than when you were six and I was three.
And soon even our kids will be in the same stage.
Don’t worry, you’ll always be ahead of me in some ways.

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