POETRY
 
Certain moods, occurrences, or activities
can trigger an inspiration within us,
a communion with others souls,
and we can see, feel, or touch what others experience.
Ideas begin to bustle in our heads,
and we are filled with a certain urge,
an urge to send a message,
to express a feeling or thought,
but it only lasts for a short while.
If we are able
to nourish this urge,
we are blessed with a feeling,
as if a creator,
our creation being poetry—
our gateway to each other.
 
 
A GOSSIP
 
As the wind blows spreading air around,
gossips also chatter spreading slanderous news around.
Gossips—taking unconscious pleasure
in others' misery.
But behind most gossips
is a troubled mind
hiding its own misery

 
REFLECTIONS II
 
The concept of age
is a useless and distracting idea,
serving only to justify many wasted years
and to infect with forgetfulness,
until years later—too late perhaps—
the knowledge of one's ever-present
and impending vulnerability
to the condition of one's birth
as being chosen
to live to die or die to live,
which is saying the same thing.
With youth, we have an illusory power
over the end to come,
anticipated to be many years still.
Not surprising then that we are often
caught unaware,
for if it was left to us,
we would swim
in the delightful ocean of forgetfulness forever,
devaluing the importance of our time,
of the responsibility to make every moment count.
 
 
LIFE
 
Life is a blessing
we are fortunate to journey through
for any length of time.
It is omnipresent,
yet very precious and rare.
This is why with full force a tree
blooms
and provides a floral extravaganza
in celebration of its new life,
with no regrets for a future state of seeming lifelessness,
for now it is lively and blessed.
What great lesson
can we learn,
celebrating our lives with constipated emotions
and fears about the future?
We lose the very essence of life
while searching for it!
Release,
go love, laugh, and live.
Think not of the coming winter,
for today, you have life.
 
 
THE RAIN
 
I love it when it rains.
Each little droplet,
a tear from Mother Nature.
The wind tries to sway it,
pushing it south to west or whatever direction,
but the rain wins
by being anywhere it chooses to be,
in order to calm hearts,
to soothe pain,
to bring hope for the future.
Rain, rain,
Come to me.