Steph N. Janusz

The choices I make
Are mine alone.
Not for you to
condemn nor condone.
...

A poet lives!
To bring his or her thoughts
to the page, for others
to read.
...

I walk a different path
To convert you is not my way
I walk a different path
Please hear what I say
...

In a dream
I am climbing a mountain.
No rope as aid,
Just my own hands
...

Time keeps tick ticking,
Slipping away from me.
Minutes slip into hours,
Hours to days, days to weeks
...

If we asked for the moon,
would you give it?
An outrageous request,
you would say.
...

In the garden my brothers, sisters and I planted,
In the garden where we play,
In the garden where we laugh and pray,
In the garden a memorial stands,
...

written in memory of my Aunt Rose Mary from her point of view

A long journey home
It is from birth to death
...

Written from the point of view of the deceased brother of my dad's friend

From above
The call has come
...

...

I should care less about clocks
and their artificial division of days
into hours, minutes, and seconds
...

Darkest night of the soul,
The teenage years take their toll.
Constantly trying to fit in,
...

Come y'all goblins and ghouls
And corpses in the sod.
Now is your chance,
You will learn to dance
...

Rage! Rage at the injustice done,
To our people at home, in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Rage at the ignorance and fear;
A chaplain recalled and denied transfer.
...