My Voice is Still

My Voice is Still

My voice is still
I have nothing new to say
I don't want to bore myself
to repeat my  fears and anguish

It doesn't help to speak
nothing changes anyway
I cannot escape my fate
all words have been said

I try to keep my own counsel
escape craziness as I can
take walks with the dogs
my voice is still.


Shared with Poets United.

The link below gives words to what I already knew.  In its own way, it inspired my words above.

In a divided U.S., therapists treating anxiety are hearing the same name over and over: Donald Trump

Where is God

Where is God?

I believe God resides in this tree
and if you question why, I say why not?
Can I prove it? No, just have faith.
Can you prove your God exists?

A tree is filled with mysteries:
one of them is God, nothing
more mysterious than one's beliefs.
I bow down before my tree.

I pray to my tree, and my chance
of having the prayer answered
is as good as yours. At least
I can see and touch my tree.

Can you see and touch your God?
Maybe that's not important to you.
But me, God is visible in my tree.
And where is your God visible?


Shared with Poetry Pantry.

Originally written in 2012.
The question is still relavant.
Smiles.

Summer

Summer

Nowadays, especially for those of us
who have lived a number of years,
hot summers  pass way too quickly
while we pay absolutely no attention
until it's too late to recollect bygone days
not that one would choose to remember
the indiscretions of one's youthful past.

Summer morning sun always rises early
before vivacious birds begin to warble
to welcome the birth of each new day.
Grass is richest and most verdant green
the day before mid-summer drought
but it does not know its predictable fate
nor do any of us know our real fortune.

Summer skies are most azure blue
nature's late afternoon visual gift
jewel before each evening colorful sunset
and no one pays any attention at all
to the solitary wrinkled old man in the dark
who dreams wearily about his summers past
behind drawn dark curtain which allows no sun.


A poem I wrote in 2015 that bears repeating!  Smiles.
For Poets United Poetry Pantry

A Few Seasonal Haiku

A Few Seasonal Haiku

Humid summer day
dogs would like to take a walk
instead we hide inside

Fourth of July passes
almost without my notice
no flag on my porch

Burgers on the grill
Veggies and salads as sides
don't forget the pie

Picnic at the lake
mind cleared of all worries
let's skip stones now

Summers pass so fast
how many more will I see
how many for you?

Coolish summer day
dogs would like to take a walk
let's go and enjoy.


Submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry.
A varied assortment.  I thought of short
poetry after reading Rosemary's feature
this week.