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')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). 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.

18 January 2011


Suddenly I’m weeping and weeping
for something I’ve lost and can’t get back,
something that was taken from me.
It all happened so fast, I wasn’t quick enough.

Yet it was a small item. Why am I so upset?
People not far away have lost everything.
‘Maybe that’s what you’re really crying about,’
my darling says — and I look at the words I used.

Yes, that must be it. I described exactly
what happened to so many in the recent floods.
I must be picking up the terrible grief
of thousands. And my tears continue to flood.

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