Goodnight midnight
What more to be said
That can’t be said tomorrow
Good night
Off we go
Sleep again
Hoping to grow
In thought and patience
Everyday
Midnight
Teach me to be
That way
Goodnight midnight
What more to be said
That can’t be said tomorrow
Good night
Off we go
Sleep again
Hoping to grow
In thought and patience
Everyday
Midnight
Teach me to be
That way
Always the hardest part
Getting up
A head start
The way to learn and grow
Before the early glow
Of the sun
When the day is young
But the hardest part
Is pushing through
Each morning
Seeing each day to
The highest calling
Making a morning great and new
With the early morning dew
Where are my shoes
Old leather wheels
Holding me down
Looking around
Where did I set them down
Blessed truths
Where will I find you
Silly shoes
Did I set them next to
The pipe of the balloon
Old shoes walk back to me
Real soon
Entitled title
Is earned through
Commitment
To greed
And dishonestly
Dishonesty
Entitled title of my next poem
Should be
And is
For some in the main of streams
Believe entitled live
Are lived
A blue tune
On the radio
I would not rather hear
As it simmers
In the distant background
Stirring up my head
And heart
This blue tune
Of me and you
Written too slow
To listen to
Tied to
My side
A tell tale
Ride
What learning can help me
Overcome
But what is learned
Must sometimes
Be undone
If we reach the truth
We teach the truth
If we fall short
We fill ears with wars of untruth
Can be me
Can’t be you
So strive for truth
Newness
Is it new
In the now
What has been done
What I learned from
Starting anew
Today it is due
To push farther
Run faster
For the now is due
In the face of time
I quiver
I walk
Away
Today
I
Face time
While
Heartedly
Aware
Of the passing of a figure
Unaware
Of time and place
Like my own mind
Unaware
The old wicker chair
Rests on the deck
Paint busted and worn
Summer town
Heat torn
The old wicker chair
Has remained a constant
In a changing world
All around us
The wicker chair remains the same
Face the fax machine
A worker from the past
Labeled into confusion
Now unused
Abusing
The old teller of tales
Gone away
And a deep water whale
Retreats into the ocean
Face the fax
And the fact is
We have moved on