BEGGING IS JUST THE BEGINNING

Volume 8, Collected Poems, 2010

Available for Purchase

Published by AuthorHouse®

I've never been much good at closing eyes,
and sometimes cannot sleep
for dotting i's.

I get up from my bed to write a poem
and judge it dull by morning.

It's not the way I want to start the day,
both sleepy and disgruntled;

then night turns gray
and sunlight gives pink tints to hints of morning.

Even before full dawn, robins awake,
make cheeps,
give calls of warning.

High up in oaks and maples, they start their songs.

The very air is blessed.
Sweet sounds surrounds.

We cannot talk of God and still we try
to understand experience,
seek the whys,
and wherefores of existence;

hope to find,
through reason, reason's truth,
a hopeless task
that takes us to that place
where rules collapse.

We're left with what we feel,
the needs,
the fears,
the wish for rest and solace;

what it takes to make a day less weary;

find a sense
of self worth that is worthy;
so create
beliefe,
a web left hanging.

It's a start.