Reflection by Poetry

Sunsets and rainy days
Sunsets beg reflection
Reflection upon the water
Reflection invites collecting
Collecting copper coins
Collecting the day’s joy
Joy abounds
Joy found in moments
Moments like these
Moments lead to the unexpected
Unexpected treasures
Unexpected yet more
More than laughter
More of what I need
Need is so fleeting
Need to mark time
Time for dreaming
Time takes up space
Space ships to the moon
Space between here and there
There upon murky water
There is less and less
Less is more
Less to regret
Regret what happened
Regret only mistakes
Mistakes or missteps
Mistakes are made
Made of glass
Made to be broken
Broken down car
Broken dreams
Dreams get forgotten
Dreams of a shadow
Shadow or mine
Shadow of what’s to be
Be your own boss
Be appreciated
Appreciated like magic
Appreciated the step
Step right on up
Step over the losses
Losses of vision
Losses offer learning
Learning to read
Learning about poetry
Poetry in motion
Poetry forms

Swallowtail Jig

personified by
Celtic tune
Fiddler strums
the flitting floral dance called
“The Swallowtail Jig”


What Color is Your Aura?

Yellow auras are analytic
while reds are competitive and energetic

Romantics are cast in auras pink
and green-hued folks are more creative than they might think

Orange belongs to generous souls
Purple’s the psychic who mysteriously cajoles

Blue is the strong worker, organized
Those most attractive, golds, show off and get patronized

Gifted spirits of silver adapt
The color of your aura foretells purpose, unwrapped

The Weaver

of her craft
nimble warrior
spins an artful web all her own

Eternity’s Eye

Sitting upon this knoll, I am awe-struck;
How fleeting our days float by.
To eternity’s eye, a lifetime is merely a
lonely breath, a single raindrop
meandering through the clouds, a snail
pacing its time until darkness closes;                                            miraculous, life finds its time up.

Yosa Busin haiku

Miracles Know No Bounds

Tuberous veins dig deep into mud
clinging with hope for just a chance
once roots take hold, don’t let go
reaching up from darkness
stems snake sunward, grow
reaching surface
beauty buds,


Just Be

be tranquil
at peace, one

Breathe in, out;
gently feel
stress melt by

Focus on
this moment,
nothing more

Time Capsule

This time capsule in my mind’s tomb
I step inside my past, and loom
grounded by olive patchwork floor
always slightly off-kilter door
memories of my girlhood room

Do glow-in-the-dark stars illume
the ceiling still? Can I presume
a child pretends there once more
this time capsule in my mind’s tomb

Antique mirror to primp, dare, groom
behold the wild flower bloom
paneled walls too thin to ignore
the chaos of those days of yore
Will I return? I don’t assume
this time capsule in my mind’s tomb


The Chance of Choice

A change of plans is no accident
if you don’t think of it as such.
A diversion lies in wait,
a chance to recreate what might have been.

If you don’t think of it as such,
what’s meant to be
might actually be a mistake.

A diversion lies in wait,
whenever a choice forces its way
inside the twists and turns of life.

A chance to recreate what might have been
is an opportunity to look anew
at what has yet to be imagined.


If the shell of you met the shell of me,
I wonder if we would get anywhere,
if eye to eye the truth we could still see.
Would we walk right on by, without a care;
would we feel any connection or stare
just long enough to wonder: had we met
before once or twice, some cosmic kismet?
Without baring souls in the nick of time
would we miss the chance, our fate lost, ill-set?
Would the future, present, still leave you mine?