People gather in the crimson heat
For summer adventures when they meet.
Their chaos release,
But I like my peace
Writing in my poetry book - sweet!
When I was young
For 25 years in my twenties, thirties and forties
I lived off grid up in the hills
And we hillbillies all thought ourselves
Superior to the valley dwellers.
Looking back now, I’m not exactly sure why,
But I think it had something to do
With having a better view and a harsher lifestyle.
Now I live in the valley
And I know it’s superior for a variety of reasons
Grid power, unlimited water and proximity to groceries
Being high on the list.
I see those hillbillies for what they are
Proud with their poverty and disadvantage
And inherent ignorance
Because I was one once,
And know what it’s like to have nothing else.
Somehow the world is easily reduced
To these two sides;
Hardship and comfort
And the pride which accompanies each.
(8/9/25)
A badge, a backpack, two different views,
Both carry stories, both face hard truths.
Teens seek a future, a place to belong,
Officers hope to keep people strong.
Listen before judging, hear every voice,
Respect is a bridge built one choice at a time.
When understanding grows instead of fear,
A safer tomorrow comes a little more near.If you want it to be sadder, more emotional, or from a teen's point of view, I can write that too.
Summer fades, and autumn seems drawing near,
Yet autumn shall never to you appear.
Winter passes, and warm spring promises to rise,
Yet spring shall no longer greet your eyes.
For within 'your' seasons, 'I' am the one who stays.
With a blazing, scorching spark,
Burn 'you' and 'I' into the dark!
At last, you shall come to see,
You shall realize the truth of thee:
Spring, summer, autumn, and winter’s grace—
They take no sides in this shifting space.
Do not ask me why this is so!
Deep within the mighty Cape of Good Hope,
Where the rocky, narrowest crevices slope,
A flower blooms, neither of winter’s chill nor spring’s embrace—
It blooms by hope alone, in its own sacred place!
None of us are worthy of who we think we need to be, in that daunting moment
But all of us are capable of what we need to be, if we but rise to the occasion
When we first confront that rise which cowers inside us is when we rise to overcome
And, only when we overcome the temptation to hide behind that rising mountain of concern
Can we see beyond the crest of our uncertainty, and see ourselves on the other side
Safely or not, but having taken the side of what we can do, what we should do, and what will will do
(“Dark Pool of Light Nebula #3”, 2011, original oil)
Excited and inspired
Hurt and in need of healing
Bored and disillusioned
Three sides of a coin
We toss
Again and again
Compulsive gamblers all
Until the game is done
And the ferryman collects
(6/8/26)
Your Phosphorus, twinkles as the morning star -
lovely Venus...how beautiful you are.
Your Hesperus, sparkles as the evening star -
how enchanting to see you from afar.
Named for the Goddess of love, divine,
when the sun is up, still you shine.
If one knows where in the sky you're residing,
he can see you coyly hiding.
Poets, you would always beguile,
but now, scientists, too, find you worthwhile,
sending crafts to sidle by your side,
immersed in atmospheric carbon dioxide.
Up close, your beauty transforms to doom,
Our probes, your heat will instantly consume.
Is it fiery love, passion, or CO2?
See what a greenhouse gas can do!
I asked you to dance with me
To ‘Both Sides Now’
by Joni Mitchell.
You didn’t have a choice.
That is what I do to you
when I am feeling romantic
and in love with my husband.
The Christmas tree is still up
in mid-January.
It is more luminous to look at
and reflect on after Christmas is over.
Now, there is time and space
for eccentricities,
especially mine.
Ben is embarrassed when we dance
in our slow circles
of middle-aged parents.
He went to play the trumpet
in his room.
He closed his door
which made both of us laugh.
The moment meant more
with the cacophony of music
and feeling
when we were laughing.
And our dog looked at us
with a bored expression
from her couch.
Daphne, our dog,
was enjoying her old-lady leisure.
I told you:
“honey, don’t forget this.”
man
mankind
manhandle
man Friday
where is the woman Friday?
man at large
man-made
man-to-man
manslayer
no woman slayer?
how to manage these mans?
do we manipulate or maneuver?
will they live in a mansion or manor?
Is this poem many-sided or maniacal?
Dare I manifest a manifesto for man?
What about woman? What do we do for her?
Knowing of my yesterdays;
and how I feel left broken,
Seems that must be the way;
Am I really just a token ?
I have held so many secrets;
yet never was I shaken,
Not until I matured enough;
to know I was forsaken ....
I went on and tried to live;
many times just on the rim,
for in my feelings I did give,
somehow were kind of dim .....
Love , Trust and Happiness,
all left in just a sweep;
My heart again left broken ,
from a promise for to keep.....
I am not as thrilled today ,
to even know she still exists ;
I wish she had just gone away ;
cause somehow I'm left pissed.....
To end my rant of my ill's;
I will repeat as fact,
I hope that chokes on her booze;
and Mom dies of a heart attack
There are two sides to every story,
But we should also remember
That, in many cases,
One side is right, and the other wrong.
And we will be far wiser if,
Beyond recognizing the two sides,
We can distinguish one from the other.
my brain goes between
loving you and hating you
it can never pick a side to stay on
it hurts when you ignore me
push me aside
pretend i'm a ghost
floating around, stuck in one form
while you're free and flourishing
becoming everything you hated
forgetting everything you loved
including me
which is worst of all
it makes my brain hate you
but my brain also loves you
our memories together
spending every day by your side
laughing, smiling
i felt valued
something i had to search for
for so long
my brain never wanted to have to hate you
i never imagined hating you
never in a million year
and i still don't
no matter how much you've done
no matter how much it breaks me
i could never hate you
but sometimes my brain likes to pretend
hating you would be so much easier
i hope someday i finally can
white enclaves
gated jails
urban slums
where the sun is pale
two sides of a coin
can’t you see
in the land of the grave
and the home the rich flee
MY ADDED VERSUS:
Bows on solemn flower blooms
and scented layers of flared perfume
flow down rows of headstones and tombs.
I've looked at death that way.
But now I tend to ask God why
people visit and freshly cry.
We all know when loved ones die
they rise on His stairway.
I've looked at death from both sides now
from heart to soul and creased my brow.
It's cemeteries I recall.
I really don't know death at all.
Babes and Moms know love far beyond
the reasons seasoning their bond.
Loving a child is blessing dawned.
I've looked at fair that way.
But I live with maternal pain.
My childhood baby dreams met stain.
Now I'm thunder in my son's rain.
Won't give my sadness sway.
I've looked at fair from both sides now
from deep held faith and still somehow
it's his special needs I recall.
I really don't know fair at all.
What's true for you
even if it is insanity
may not be the same for me
as we each have our own reality
'There's two sides to every coin'
some are said to say
'But what about the edge,
when one is on display,
showing tails and the obverse?'
as a numismatist I insist
even a mirror reflects the reverse
yet when confronted with a conundrum
maybe at least you and me
will resolve the knotty quandary
with compromise and both agree to disagree
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