Tuesday, October 26, 2010


Slipping so fast

As I grasp on tightly,
It slithers away,
Stealthily innocent.
Moving, always moving;
Flowing, always flowing.
Amazing, appreciated slowly,
Unlike its rapid route,
Of going so fast,
When I want it to slow.
Or when it falls away,
Out of reach,
Uncomprehended, but accepted.
An unknown stranger.
Swoosh, and it is gone;
Into my hands,
The Miracle of Time.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Whistle to the Wind

When I whistle

My secrets,
The song of my world,
A melody so fragile,
Comes bellowing,
I tell nature,
Who's listening,
Everything I know,
Through the tool,
Of communicating,
My song as I go.
The wind sweeps,
Unto me,
And carries my words away,
And the tune ,
That I whistle,
Is lost in the day.



Binding my thoughts
Keeping my secrets
Holding my place in life

The Season of Poetry

The season of poetry

Has arrived
Bright is the sun
Shining in the clouds
Crisp is the air
Surrounding our souls
Colourful is the world
We are thrust into graciously
Pristine are the leaves
Falling to reality
Happy am I
That the season has begun


A river

On and on
As the tears fall
Drop by drop
And I cry
Heart to heart
With myself and my emotions
As the river goes on
Line by line
Made up of more
Than the eye can see
One by one
Piece to piece
Forming a story
Of my life