Depression
Depression haunted me for many years.
In fact, when in my teens it rarely
left.
In early marriage, it brought many
tears.
I daily dealt with symptoms of its
theft.
It left my family and friends bereft.
I learned it’s not the monster it
appeared,
And to direct my mind from what I feared.
Who Cares?
The ones who seem a tad bit odd
Though mold has broken, don’t blame God
Who see as perfect, not as flawed
Who value each and every soul
Concern’s not merely a façade
Who want them healthy, safe and whole
Who Talks to Birds?
Birds meet on my bush outside.
When do you fly south?
Can I come?
Who Thinks Poem is a Verb?
Not English teachers
Not students
Not dictionaries
Not Google
Not doctors, lawyers, mathematicians
Not butchers, bakers, candlestick makers
Not many, comparatively.
Who thinks poem is a verb?
People who poem.
Revision
“My words don’t seem to come out right today.”
“Well then, it’s good that they're not set in stone.”
“So let’s forget this and go out to play.”
“A fine idea then come back to hone
your words and write them yet another way.”
That Smile
She spoke to me with sounds that slurred
And smiled a magnificent smile.
I knew I’d have to guess a while.
Sometimes, it seemed so hard, absurd,
To dialogue without a word.
I said, “Look here.
“A trip to Egypt.”
"Why not?" she asks. "Let's go!"
