I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

Some of these poems are autobiographical, some are entirely fictional, and some are a mixture of both. The intention is art rather than self-expression. I don't allow factual details to get in the way of poetry! (I do seek emotional truth.) They are works in progress, and may be subject to revision without notice. Completed versions appear in my books. Nevertheless copyright applies to all texts found here. Copyright also applies to almost all photos posted here, most of which are my own, though a few are licensed under Creative Commons.
Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

21 September 2009

This Evening

30 Poems in 30 Days: Day 19
Write a poem that begins and ends with three single syllable words.

Dark comes down.
What’s that noise?
Ah, it’s rain, fresh
rain, heavy, cooling the air.
The heat became thick
as the afternoon wore on,
like a blanket pressing.

Rain, welcome rain,
as night falls, air
you  can breathe again.
Dry brown plants
plump up, stop sagging,
stop dragging limp leaves
along the ground.

But I’m tired
from the hot day, listless,
reluctant to move –
and from anger. It takes
much energy on any day
to keep being furious, why
don’t I let it go?

It has me, I can’t
shake it. I know
this is not the way, I
know I risk loss, might be
sorry later – don’t care.
The rain evaporates too quickly,
dark comes down.


  1. yep, even knowing what is good for one is a different thing than letting go. things must run their curse, coarse course. touch and let go is harder with superglue.

  2. Writing it out does help loosen the grip. :)