Monday, April 16, 2012

Flower Beds or Orange Groves?

Where should I leave to today,

The flower beds or the orange groves?

Or perhaps to the lone tree of the concrete garden,

Where I may sit on the concrete bench

And watch the birds flutter in the concrete birdbath?

I may go there, for in the flower beds I still see birds flutter,

And in the orange groves I still see trees.

So perhaps I shall stroll out the door,

And sit across the way on my concrete bench.

O Fallen Child

Weep, o fallen smile,

Fill yourself with the sweet salt

Of your self-pity and regret.

But do not weep so much that perhaps

You drown in your sorrows, for

All will be well, little fallen child,

Pick yourself back up

And try not to fall so much anymore.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

Greet Us, Dear Spring

Upon the dusty curve of spring

My fellow begonia likes to swing.

The beaten sculpture likes to dance

While little milk boy swings his lance.

Oho the spring has come for us!

Form a ring and sing 'til dusk!

Sing 'til the day has gone away!

Dance 'til the moon casts its glow on the bay!

Riddles and stories and birds and rats

All are rising, even the cats.

The lanterns fall

The trees stand tall!

Come spring, to greet us all!