Best Lenses Poems

Childhood Days

I’d heap spoonfuls of sugar in my tea
I wouldn’t drink it without it you see
That sweet syrupy drink
Wasn’t poured down the sink
Every single drop...

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I was a child of only seven years,
adventurous, bold, I had no fears.
Into the woods I would go
after my Mom told me "No."
But worth the...

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How
I loved
summer fairs -
the cool night wind
in my hair as I
twirled on the tilt-a-whirl
or climbing into sky. . . then
descending at lightening speed,
stomach leaping at...

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Dear anxiety
Nemesis to my reality,
mental manipulator of tentative trust,
massacring my once sagacious soul -
you cut me into a slice of loneliness.

The fault is in our...

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He sees the rose in her cheeks
She sees the wrinkles of time in her mirror

He sees the long, flowing brunette of her shining hair
She sees...

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August wind, glass moon,serendipity...
two chairs gazing at each other in tender flow.
Hundred miles away, clouds gather
to fondle the opening and closing
of after- midnight refrains,
both trespassing...

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You're a camera obscura, a broken bell's rings,
You made me dance slowly on sad phantom strings.
You always had the slightly off-color touch,
Your insensitive skin never...

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Rows of heavy snow flocked pines
In varied heights stretch to touch
White cloud dappled azure skies.
Their blue-gray shadows cast across

Pristine snow and swift river's flow.
Steep hillsides...

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My eyes, some days, a flirty blue,
wink cerulean skies at you.
Let’s dally in sun’s gilded rays.
A flirty blue, my eyes - some days.

At evening time...

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Alphabets gather as words unravel
the passing and returning of moans;
lines of phrases inflame the arteries 
of beauty, angst, love woven 
by imagination's pining.
Sound of words…...

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I have come to the point of decision
And I have decided in favour of love

Wisdom is not solely measured by experience
But more by capacity for...

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From your hands that dipped me in cool tubs 
and soft morn wakes, you were the gentle lion
taming my bohemian strains; the lamb of summer
rain...

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It occurred to me
I think more and more like a poet
Thoughts jumbled with imagery
Off in my own colourful world
Small wonder there’s a disconnect
With dusty musty...

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lenses grant vision       perspectives determine how well we see








January 5, 2019...

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I stubbed my toe ...

  (I do this a lot since turning fifty-five,
   when everything I picked up to read began going...

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