I like graveyards. They're peaceful and quiet.
Here no one fights or argues, curses or kills.
Here all have reaped the wages of sin: death.
...
I didn't do it. I wasn't there!
Why does everyone gasp and stare?
What's that you say? I can't remember.
...
You can tell
I'm a real man.
Look at my hands.
They're calloused and tough
...
As falling snow makes
No sound on the frozen ground,
I meditate in silence.
...
Every day I wake up
And hear this strange sucking noise, like
A clogged vacuum cleaner.
In my house, when I step outdoors,
...
The arms that embraced me,
That held our children,
That washed and tenderly folded
Our lives together like precious garments,
...
Tonight the moon has
a death's shroud around it.
A cold wind is out of the northwest.
The candles gutter
...
Let's go see Selena
At the Two Fingers Bar.
She wriggles like a snake
That's trapped in a jar.
...
The falcon stoops straight
down and in a death grip hooks
an unwary seagull.
...
Is life worth living?
Ask the young man with Lou
Gehrig's disease who clings to life
With a tenacious will.
...
Words are like food.
They're tasty, spicy, sweet,
hot, cold, salty, sour,
or just plain blah blah.
...
Painting is visual poetry.
The good artists understand
The elements and principles
That make a good composition
...
When do you reach the point
of no return to sanity?
are any of us really normal?
completely sane?
...
A second is always a second.
Sixty of them make a minute.
A minute is always a minute.
Sixty of them make an hour.
...
I am an old man
named after my grandfather
Clyde. It means 'strong horse.'
Not a bad metaphor. When you've
...
Why are you waiting?
Wake up, stop hesitating!
Stop this analysis paralysis.
...
I'm tired of givin'
To the cost of livin, '
Gettin' nothin' in return.
...
He never leaves any fingerprints.
He never leaves a trace of himself.
Only death, pain, suffering and guilt.
...
I was born at Randolph Air Force base near San Antonio, Texas,1952. My father was a pilot for the Air Force and left a month after I was born and was killed a year later in the “forgotten war” that killed over 55,000 US soldiers plus allies. I was raised by a single mother, who is the finest person I’ve ever known. She gave me the love for good literature, especially poetry, and William Shakespeare’s poems and plays, “Macbeth” and “Hamlet” being among them, and his great sonnets. Sonnet 29 is my favorite. I’m also a visual artist and all of the illustrations with my poems I’ve produced. Thank you, dear readers, for taking a few minutes in your busy lives, to read mine. I hope you find something valuable in them.)
Take It Slowly
I like graveyards. They're peaceful and quiet.
Here no one fights or argues, curses or kills.
Here all have reaped the wages of sin: death.
Now they lie acquitted in peace and rest.
Their loves and hates, joys and griefs,
Victories and defeats matter no more.
Their memories will fade like a photo,
Getting dimmer and less distinct as their headstones.
Set your heart to this: live each day
As if it were your last on this earth
As if this day was the first day of eternity
Live each day as if you had
A second chance to live your life over again
As if you were about to make
The same mistakes you did before.
Life is an exhalation, a brief moment,
Yet in it we sense eternity.
Take it slowly.
March 2017
The NOW is all you have and all you will ever have. There is never a time or a moment when it is not the NOW.
Write a poem everyday.
"Painting is about putting one beautiful color next to another".-Robert Henri, early 20th century artist and teacher
Poetry is not about quantity, but quality. Finding the right words, rhythms, diction, syntax, idioms, figurations, takes work.
Always wear clean underwear.-my mother, Betty Lee King
You have two ears and one mouth. What does that suggest? -Socrates
Know thyself.-Socrates
One day you realize that your life has only been a day's journey to an unknown destiny.
We are our worst enemies, sometimes.
Brevity is the soul of wit. - William Shakespeare (this also applies to writing prose and poetry because there is "no worse death than being talked to death."-Mark Twain)