My Poems

Time and time again(10/22/2013)

Huddled around the table
Time for brunch again
High above the rest
Soundbox of ancient tunes
Ancient yet fresh then, here we are again.
Young as we were then,
New ones tickle our minds.
Yet for those looking through time,
Just a plaque, a room, still we commune.

On the Plane(10/08/09)

Brightness and flight
exotic music
Dazzle in my corner
Little shiny world
Above the big dark world
Once more in my cocoon
Stay with me.

A Peek(5/26/08)

Around the track we go
Our world, our time
Funny little things
All funny little things
Rounding the the little corner
A familiar place before
Hints of flicks and sparks
Thoughts linger
Thoughts linger slowly
Quietly rounding the little corner
Around the track we go
Our world, our time


Only a little while past
Huddled around the table
Commune of the young
Forever a sunny day
Didn't know you better
But your radiance all the same.
Twas only a little while past
In time memory stands still
Then dream and dare the world
Now older, but you're not
Didn't know you better
Yet wiser am I now.


To be loved
To feel loved
To warmth, to gloweth.
A hint of forever.
Awake from slumber,
Brought into the clear,
The glow and the warmth,
Evaporated in a millisecond.
In thoughts and questions,
Lifetime of us could have been,
But to leave the den,
Sure got past quickly.
To be loved
To feel loved
To warmth, to gloweth.
Live today for now,
A hint of forever.

Clairvoyance (3/18/07)

Time arrests much
Minute by second
Haze unto haze it goes
Yet imperfection always and now

Once a little world
And a perfect window
From my little porch
Powerful swirling confusing twine

Time now is clair water
Brisk and peaceful with luminance
Not a belle fair package
Yet what a world it is

Two Months (6/30/06)

Two months, minus a day.
After May Day.
Magic? But no.
Epic? But no.
We comprehend.
But the day was long,
and the road difficult.
Two months, minus a day.
And still,
I miss, why?
I regret, no?
Your words were many and sweet.
Nothing, but here, and there.

Just Us (6/02)

Towering above
So majestic, so quiet
The sleek reddish color, a monument to humanity,
Itís quiet out here, just the bridge and us.
The lyric rhythms, sounding below deck,
Handsome young men and women, swirling around and around.
But up here, on the windy, dark, deck,
Itís just us and the bridge,
Elegant and silent, powerful and mild.

My Room (12/99)

My room, my room,
My things are strewn across the room,
My bed, my bed,
From there I see the world out there.

I look from my little room,
Out the window across the world,
See a vast vast world of green and gray,
From the twenty-ninth floor no less.

Thereís the office building to the left,
So tall, so tall, how high does it go?
I see the mountains and the rest,
Buildings swallowing the jungle, left and right.

Thereís a Buddhist monastery down the middle,
Thereís the villages up and down,
Then there are the high-rises on the right,
A family living out each window, just like mine.

The sky is gray, and they said rainíll come,
But how cheerful it is from my little corner,
Looking out at the world out there,
The world, the world, how big it is.

The Fly (10/1999)

In the dark of night
My lights, shining
Books open, coffee brewing.

Then the fly came.
It drifted in, living as it does.
Then our lives crossed.
Our two different lives.

I looked at him.
And he looked back at me.
I, the paragon of bookishness.
Him, simply looking for food.

We watched each other intently.
He wished for my food.
I wished that he begone.

He turned, I turned,
He left, I continued.
And we were alone.

Reflection (7/7/99)

I look upon my childhood home,
The grass still neatly trimmed,
The front colored in a rustic gray,
The lamp up front rusted but functional.

I walk along this familiar path,
In my unwrinkled dark suit and tie,
The click of my shoes, the clangs of my car key,
Remind me of the present.

Yet, the backyard was the same as before,
the peach tree sticking out as in earlier times,
The sun beating down upon the pavement,
Revealing the same stains and cracks.

I look upon my leather-strapped watch,
Time to leave, better drive home,
Time to find family,
Tell them of the interview.

But I catch a glimpse in the upstairs window,
A shy young boy, dressed in a clean yellow shirt,
Peers out, curiously, at the tall well-dressed man,
I see myself back in my old room in my old house,
Looking out once more.

Winds (2/20/99)

The wind of love
The warming breeze, exhilarating breath
There is nothing outside,
Nothing but the wind
It wraps around you, engulfing you

Then it stops
Now what?
Why did it stop?
Wherefore is the wind?
But wind is unpredictable

Stay with the wind
Wait awhile
See how far it'll carry you
See if it's fooling you
When you're truly ready, embrace it


Spring Bombs (5/11/99)

Sitting in the sunshine
Basking, warming up,
Birds chirping, trees swaying,
Spring is here.

But there among the trees
Shouts of anger, confusion
Signs, protests, pictures,
War, bombs, death.

Three pictures, three normal people,
Pictures of their bodies,
Deformed, swaying in the wind.
What to say, what to think?

It’s the bombs that did it,
Innocent, reporters,
In their own embassy,
Swaying now, lifeless.

The marchers march on,
Calling for peace, calling for an end,
Marching under the warm sun and green trees,
Spring is here.


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