With more than a nod to Emily Dickinson
- Theories are theoretical
Until they become facts.
None thought that Newton’s apple fell
Because a force attracts.
But gravity cannot be seen,
And save the truly dense,
What once was deemed fantastical
Is now plain common sense.
- The bad sleep well, or so we’re told.
But that’s bad news for me.
For through the night I never stir,
And dream unceasingly.
And there are those who live like saints
Who cannot close an eye.
Perhaps the truth’s irrelevant
Since all that’s born must die.
- Love is a thing that makes no sound.
It can’t be heard or seen.
It leaves no odor in its wake,
In taste it is quite mean.
It can be felt, but not by hand.
It’s quite nonsensical.
And still it shines against man’s will
The brightest, sparkling jewel.
- A seed, a root, a tree, a fruit
And then begin again.
The logic’s indisputable,
But ‘tis the same for men?
We’re born, we are, we die, and yet,
No matter what we leave,
We know we are not seed or tree,
And for all that we grieve.
- In a dictionary we find “life”
And a meaning that is clear.
But textbooks cannot rob us of
The subtext that is fear.
We make up meaning as we go.
But improv can’t improve
An essence that’s quite meaningless
And a God who will not move.
- A simple song is quite complex.
Amateurs won’t agree.
They’ll swear ornaments are the goal,
As on a Christmas tree.
Professionals who tread this path
Create a different way.
They clear the clutter and the trash
Letting essence lead the way.
- I long to travel far from home,
But life does not allow.
My fortunes are not fortunate,
And will not tell me how.
I only have a few years left
‘Til behind my back I know,
There’re those who say, “he’s all dressed up,
And no place left to go.”
- Birds sing sweetly, but do they know
The lyrics that they share?
They warble to find love and mate,
But are they self aware?
The universe is beauty, too.
And some there are who claim,
This beauty is a song as well,
Though no one knows its name.
- My walk grows worn with every morn,
New cracks and weeds appear.
And though they promise to repair,
Their voices suggest fear.
Roads, too, grow shorter with each sun.
Yet none can tell me why
It takes twice long to tread them now.
They only pray and sigh.
- My house is crumbling, it will not last.
Leaky roof tiles lead the way.
The bricks break easily to the touch
As walls and beams decay.
I soon shall have a stouter home,
Perhaps of solid oak,
Where I will sleep til all time ends,
And ne’er shall be awoke.
- I search for signs from set to dawn
And search again at day.
I find all that I wish to see,
But none have aught to say.
Do signs exist in present time,
Or only in past tense?
Are they created for our worth?
Or profound coincidence?
- There’s little left that I can do,
E’en less time left to do it.
Late years speed faster every day
And time is no match to it.
The race is forfeit, it can’t be won.
And such is fact for all.
We lost the bout by being born,
Then by learning to crawl.
- The life I lead, I do not lead.
No power can I see,
Except of what I think I have
Which does no good for me.
Illusion is all we have of choice,
Or is that delusion, too?
If I could choose to say farewell,
Is not death long o’er do?
- The tales I tell are nowhere true,
Yet indisputably real.
Since facts say little about life
And serve but to conceal.
Truth is but an invisible fact
That few can see or feel.
And t’would not matter if they could
If rung with an angel’s peal.
1. The sun and moon divide the sky
As though in partnership.
But one speaks not the other one
And continue on their trip.
If they could talk, what would they say?
I think I’ll hypothesy.
I’m bored, I’m tired, I hate my work,
Switch places or I’ll die.