One more month and spring is here.
When freezing to death’s no longer a fear.
We’ll pack our sweaters, hats and coats.
Soon the bay will fill with boats.
Flowers will bloom and temps will rise.
Trees will green before longing eyes.
Days get longer, nights a bit cool.
But now we wait, because time’s cruel.
I don’t hate winter or the cold.
But those months are growing old.
I do like autumn but spring is still best.
So for one more month I’ll just rest.
My mind’s blank but I can’t complain,
it’s certainly better than being insane.
But if I was, how would I know?
Would I feel high or way down low?
Would I be happy or angry or sad?
Would I be good or be really bad?
Could I still write? Could it be read?
Would I know if I were alive or dead?
Would I be recognized by friends I meet?
Would I wander aimlessly up and down the street?
Would there be a reason for the questions I ask?
Could I complete a minimal task?
Would I care or would I hide in shame?
Or would my life be pretty much the same?
I don’t have the answers, at least not today.
But if I’m asking, I’m probably OK.
Mornings hide in darkness to an untrained eye.
Light fills the mind. Who needs a sunlit sky?
Wheel’s always turning; they get us here and there.
Thought moves us forward, making us aware.
Hate infects the soul, love mends a heart.
Memories fill the void at times when apart.
Words can flow like water, but not all fit to drink.
Edits smooth the surface the deeper that we think.
Actions set in motion the motives of our will.
Results always happen regardless of our skill.
Infants of the night, stars will guide the way.
The universe is infinite or so our eyes will say.
Seeing is absolute, visions much less clear.
Plans are two dimensional stumbling on a sphere.
Life’s full of surprises, full of good and bad.
Time is unpredictable, why would some choose sad.
Poets make predictions, half are mostly true.
Honesty measures accuracy, what shade of gray are you?
Poems can be too lengthy with no end in sight.
I’m predicting this is one, so I’ll say goodnight.
With Valentine’s Day now over,
it’s time to think of clover.
The reds have left the room,
now’s time for greens to bloom.
Soon Saint Paddy will have their say.
And everyone’s Irish for that one day.
We’ll all feel lucky and have great fun.
Our joy will be shared, all as one.
Like the four seasons the clover has four leaves.
And luck too will change as one believes.
While some things are real, some we choose to see.
And like a Valentine nothing’s ever free.
The winter soon will end, spring’s almost here.
Summer and autumn will complete our year.
Though another year older we’re a bit more wise.
Think every day a holiday but without the lies.
Share a toast with someone new.
Pick a flower for a special few.
And show your love to all your friends.
Then our holidays will have no ends.
Another day of quitting to quit,
another day to feel like a twit.
My morning had started pretty well,
but as the day warmed so did my hell.
So I jumped in my car to cool my head,
but took a wrong turn and to the store I sped.
I bought some milk and tobacco too.
Then I limped home and smoked till blue.
Tomorrow’s gladly another day.
I’ll rise optimistic with demons at bay.
Boiling water the urges will swell.
The heat will be on then back to hell.
Will I submit or stand and fight?
The battle lost the end’s in sight.
But now it’s to bed to dream as I do.
Will there be many or be just a few?
I once was a young man,
but that was yesterday.
I thought I’d grow much greater,
but time got in my way.
I still have hopes and dreams,
hoping to dream some more.
But with every day that passes,
waking is less sure.
I see my ups and downs;
it’s my foot on the gas.
I hear the no, no, no’s,
but still I try to pass.
I try to write a little bit;
I’d love to write a song.
I’ve tried to write a novel,
but they always take too long.
I shouldn’t write about myself,
though I often do.
Every second a memory’s made,
gladly I choose so few.
I couldn’t be a luckier guy,
and fortunately once again.
I’m thankful for this love I’m given,
even though I’m a pain.
So is the end of another Valentine’s Day,
all the confetti’s been vacuumed away.
Cards now stored neatly in a special drawer.
Dying flowers are thinned till there are no more.
The romantic dinner’s now just a memory.
The dessert was great but sure wasn’t free.
There are two candies left no one will eat,
one’s missing a bite and the other’s no treat.
Her dress was stained from wine I spilled.
The rest of the night I thought I’d be killed.
We woke the next morning and she’s still peeved.
But I’m still alive, so I was relieved.
I tried to kiss her and she yelled “go away!”
Then she went off about ruining her day.
The whole event gave me a terrible scare.
But all’s good now cos it was just a nightmare.