.
. . .
.
deep blue sea
this ocean, the deep blue sea
it’s beckoning me
we all come from her
ocean is our mother
life started there
why not go back to her
in the womb
we did breath
floating peacefully
but then it was time to leave . . .
.
. . .
.
not really a poet
I am not a poet
not really
but sometimes i write
poetry
spontaneous expression of feelings
laid down on paper
with lyrical words
free-form poetry
thats the term for that, i guess
but as i said,
I am not really a poet
.
. . .
.
too sensitive, maybe
i am drawn to poetry
lately more than ever before
Mary Oliver
Emily Dickenson
Sylvia Path
Sara Teasdale
Karin Boye
female poets, more often than not
masters of the word
sensitive souls
too sensitive maybe for this world
some did not stand it here
lives cut too short
by depression
.
. . .
.
saved by the beauty of the world
visual poetry
.
. . .
.
Tell me, what else should i have done?
Doesn’t everything change
and die at last
and way too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
