Friday, March 30, 2018

Spring Garden

My Father's lovely wife Ila posted this on Facebook

Monday, March 19, 2018


The trees are swaying fiercely in the wind
Their motion makes me feel like I have spinned
Around enough to fleetingly rescind
This unseen force that binds me to the earth

I burden withered limbs most every day
A stationary clod of crusty clay
Endeavoring to always find a way
To mask a life amiss with mindless mirth.

Saturday, March 17, 2018


March became my mantra
Despite each searing jolt
Of agony (like plasma,
The price for my revolt)

Which forced my knees to buckle
While I just muttered March
It isn’t hard to stumble
In the ruins of an arch

But I would not surrender
Or be shot for standing still
I’ll stagger on forever
Just to have my own free will.