Off the waves a sparkling, Little glints of sun, Shining for the summertime, There for everyone Constant motion everywhere In and out of balance, But reflecting what we know’s Always in Our talents
She sinks among the memories And drowns amid the flood Of all that she has lost in time In friendship, and in blood, For joy’s a special kind of spice: We sprinkle it in haste, Then find upon the morrow that It leaves an Aftertaste
I built a bridge to bring you back, But it was poor construction; In consternation did you gaze On possible destruction And so, you turned away and ran. I couldn’t call you flaky — For though I had built you a bridge, The whole thing was Too shaky
Writing should be like cooking: It has to be driven By the love we put into it And poetry should be like Exotic cooking, at that: Free of common constraints There is a library in your mind — Tall and stately, Wild and ranging, And full of words You haven’t invented yet Explore it Invite … Continue reading "24 Indulgences – III"
It’s not the fantasy of power, But the fantasy of the power to do good Wanting to be a hero, or a heroine: The only people who disapprove Have some other type of heroine or hero They want you to be Too much of adolescence is Wanting to be liked; Learning instead that We should … Continue reading "24 Indulgences – II"
We are not wired to play Merely to pass time; We play, originally, in order to Make sense of the jumble, and To test our own powers to affect it. It is through play that we Continue growing, And it feels good, simply because Expanding capabilities and Making sense out of chaos Are intrinsically good … Continue reading "24 Indulgences – I"