Speak then to me in ancient symbols.
I shall respond in memories uncharted.
Walk then with me in childhood adventure.
I shall lick this popsicle
first offered to a puppy.
Sweet, Let All anticipation come,
To stand at the door of my Heart and Knock,
Waiting in Breathless Yearning for the Answer
Only You can Give.
In Supplication I come,
My uncertainties Cast Asunder,
And like a lowly beggar, do Kneel at Your feet,
They click around
old quotes
and melt heavy-lidded records
in convection ovens,
in remembrance
of half-baked crooners
that serenaded
the aliens in your pocket.
This morning when I woke up
I could feel it;
it’s been hovering for weeks,
inescapable feeling of losing grip,
oil-coated life slipping
through slithery-dithery hands.
Dependant on so many
for so much,
each doing their
not-good-enough best
because it’s not my way;
simultaneous overspill of gratitude;
Poet's Corner 