Short Crocked Poems

Waste of heart
waste of life
waste of tears 
waste of time
wasted of all
what was mine
crocked thoughts
wonky mind.

Jessica...

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They have command on me
my posture has been so
since birth and even now
a grown up, no change
The back has followed
the legs are going there
why can’t a guinea fowl
produce  penguins, swans?
Why is choice in nature
so elusive, so limited?
Why can’t I become really
what I admire in nature?
I want to be free to be happy
but I’m condemned to be 
a bent bow  without arrows!...

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Who are you?
 You who are:

    Half Baked
 Half Crocked
         and
 Half Cracked

    Unscrewed
       Unzipped 
         and
     Unleashed

 Who are you?
 You who are:

            Baked
         Crocked
          and
         Cracked

         Screwed
            Zipped
           and
         Leashed

      Or are you?
   You who are:

                 Just
          Plain Old
             Screwy
                    To
                    Me...

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Olive trees

with warming 
of the land
a plant appeared
to thrive 
the olive plant.
where do they get water from
the morning dew
or the memory 
for better days.
Near the house there
are a forest of them
look like an army 
of ancient soldiers 
who have stopped walking
gnarled and crocked 
will not march no more.
Every year they are full of olives.
Hundred of years old
they have seen it all.
Love has been made 
under their soft ground
but an olive tree
tells no tales....

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