Sheila Burns Poems

Holding in high esteem
My false self image
The granules of that image flow
Slipping thru the hour glass
...

Dark clouds drifting by
Throughout most days
Are easily ignored.
But some days completely
...

To look at me, you might say
“Linear accountant type
No creativity, no way, ”
In spite of my sloth
...

Everything blends
Dissolving and combining
Before my eyes
Within my head
...

Sometimes, too often lately,
Now when my vocabulary
Has grown quite large
I cannot recall a specific word
...

My vehicle has become defective
From my intolerance
Of others driving habits.
My pet-peeves are gravel in my gasoline.
...

How do we honor and love
Our formless, beloved, departed ones?
Those whose eyes we loved
Whose lips, smiles, skin, voice, smell, touch,
...