Some Dusty Poetry

I was cleaning out our book closet, and I came upon some old poems and a few lines of poetry in one of my journals I'd written around 4 years ago. They made me smile so I thought I'd share.

Man's worst Invention

Square and four
With a door --
Or two
They are painted white
As if to belie
Their black nature
They are square
They are four
And my mind can tolerate them
No more.

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There is little in love that has not been said
So I will choose for you a grander poet
Than give you a lesser rhyme from my own head

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The World

I have no knowledge of what lies in wait
For a careless crowd in their careless fate

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The Leaves

A tree in fall sheds its leaves.
They have become dry and useless
And nourish it no more.
Poor yellow leaves.

It will bear new ones in spring
And sway them like old in the wind.
The poor naive leaves
Happy and unsuspecting

The old treach'rous tree will die
And leaves, all fallen, do not mourn.
Not a tear will be shed
When it's gone.



Cheers