David Whalen Poems

I see ghosts…
Ghosts in my grand
And grandkid's eyes
...

Just a touch of Springtime
Only a spritzle or a pat

That's all of Spring
...

Of what would Spring be
Of what pleasures to see
Were it not for the words
Of a poetic potpourri
...

It's out of your hands
Beyond your control
No matter your demands
No matter your goal
...

I'd rather eat a
Chicken's nest…than eat one more
Skinless chicken breast
...

Goodbye my old friend…
Seems I hardly
got to know you
...

Not the man I used
to be…No more trust…
or faith
Rests inside of me
...

Wan shades
of carmine and carnelian
Dying in a sunset’s
languid demise
...

The spicy condimental smell
Of crushed Autumn leaves
Faint distant cries
As from damned souls
...

There were times when I was a very young child, that a feeling…
A sense of well being would flood over me. When I felt completely
At ease with…and understood fully the great scheme of all things great
And small, without knowing exactly just what it was that I understood so
...