TIME, a poem

          What do people do

          with their unused time

          not eaten by work

          leaden or sublime

          Some strive to be creative

          Most merely spend or enjoy

          insignificant pursuits

          consuming their precious days

         

          Whatever the endeavor

          Time’s sands certainly swallow

          all but rare celebrations

          of somebodies and some bards

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GRIEVING, a poem

          Real men don’t cry

          tell that to my eyes

          filling with tears

          when I speak her name

          I loved her so much

          Fire consumed the shell

          that contained her spirit

          Mix my ashes with hers

          around the rock and path

          I loved her so much

          Perhaps soulmates

          are earthly fantasies

          that disappear in death

          There is this certainty

          I loved her so much

         

           ====

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MOURNING, a poem

          I should have mourned her

          when she fell into the abyss

          three torturous years ago

          leaving only forlorn cries

          for a life that once was hers

          I want to go home

          Why am I like this

          Did I do something wrong

          Nobody likes me

          Don’t kill me

          Don’t leave me

          Her sad pleas are silenced

          my heart forever torn

          the time has come to mourn

          she remains in my mind

          lovely, caring, refined

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