The moon looks me in the eye
As I stare back,
Then I count his flaws -
Usually lose track.
Maybe this will change -
Most likely won't,
Could be a star -
But most of us don't.
We just drink the booze,
And smoke the pot,
And listen to each other's minds
Creatively rot . . .
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I began writing poems in third grade. During adolescence I wrote the bulk of my words. Expressing that urge to be understood or maybe trying to understand my own feelings. I haven't written much in the past 15 years, but I need to thank my HS English teacher for continuing as long as I did. Thanks Mr. Jim Springer!
Kalama 1962
Connections
Blog Archive
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2008
(37)
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April
(37)
- Find a Reason
- To Be or Not To Be (or a confrontation)
- volunteering in the classroom
- Columbia
- Eyes
- Lisa
- Drops of rain
- Wally
- Catching Eyes
- Summertime (1966, 3rd Grade with Mrs. Davis)
- Little League
- Grandmother
- Sometimes
- Shiftless Time
- Life
- Waking Up
- Today
- Happy was
- I'll keep on going
- Sleeping
- Birds
- Clarissa
- Garden Fence
- A Seedling, No More
- Parents
- Thoughts
- You & Me
- Teri
- How Far From Hell
- For Mr. Sager
- Thoughts pace my mind
- Round and round
- For You Mom
- The Accident on I-5
- Lisa's Here
- A Generation
- Only Memory
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April
(37)
About Me
- KandN
- N is retired and K is, too. N plays in the Willamette Valley Community Band. K spends her free time creating on the computer, reading and being amused by the birds in the backyard.
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