The ebbing and flowing of the tide
The coming and going of the time
The rising and setting of the sun
All these, in Love, you shall find
The brightness and darkness of the sky
The lightness and heaviness of a sigh
The happiness and sadness of a child
These too, in Love, you shall find
So...
Know how to trust
Know how to forgive
Know how to understand
Know how to give
Know how to be selfless
Know how to be mild
Know how to be patient
Know how to be kind
Know all these, and Love, you shall find
~ 2001
Inspiration
the Actress and the Actor
The actress here,
The actress there,
Playing her part in the play.
Her voice,
Sometimes soft,
Sometimes loud and clear,
The actress in her dress,
Ever flowing,
Following the wind,
Wherever it’s going,
Says an actor,
So gallantly.
But the actress out acts him,
Not to be outsmarted,
The actor he,
Playing a knight,
In a noble play,
And he parried,
And he thrust,
And he sidestepped too,
The actress,
So fair,
Playing a maiden.
In a fanciful play,
She danced,
And she sang,
She cried,
And she rejoiced,
Once again,
They took part in a play,
Not noble,
Not fanciful,
Not both.
For once they settled their differences,
And played together,
In the play,
They outsmarted,
Outdid,
And have outdone,
Just by,
All who went in their way.
Playing their parts together,
The actress AND the actor
Through You, I Dream
Through you, I dream
Of someday playing for a concerto
And receiving a standing ovation
So practice on the piano, my dear
And realize my dream
Of someday beating up bad guys
With my martial arts skills
So practice your Tae Kwon Do, my dear
And realize my dream
Of someday traveling the world
And instagramming every place I go
So get a high-paying degree, my dear
And realize my dream
Of someday having a life well-lived
With sweet memories upon my deathbed
So continue growing, blooming, and becoming a beautiful person, my dear
And realize my dream
Writing Mood
Why does writing sometimes depend on one’s mood?
I’d surely like to write everyday
but I’m not a happy everyday person.
And even on those gloomy days
that might inspire soul-reaching verses,
the passion flits away
like a moth who lost sight
of the light.
Is there a trick or a shortcut?
I’d love to fill my pages
every time my hands begin itching
to reach for the pen.
There must be a wellspring somewhere
for writers like me –
to draw out some want,
some motivation
to dirty a blank slate.
I have the heart of a writer,
but my hands are too attached
to my brain.
I need a machine to feed me
the words I need to create
the pages I want to read.
Where’s my machine?
Poetic Ponderings 