My Poems

"Wicked hand!" cried the stone.
The chisel cut it deep.
Many a night it did moan 
In its unrestful sleep

At last the torture did end,
But then there were abrasions more,
And many a day to spend
Feeling evermore so sore.

Draped in a cloth, she stood,
The drape the wicked hand did pull.
The kiss of air and sunlight felt so good!
Oh, that hand! It had made it so beautiful!

The hand lovingly caressed its cheek,
The statue wanted so much to speak,
"Touch my lips, that I may kiss you, my hand!
Oh, how I could not you understand!" 

 Nothing is more beautiful than Nature
No one is more beautiful than the person who smiles at you sincerely.
 

The knees get bruised as I climb the rocks, but I only see the flowers above.
The fingers hurt from all the clinging.
I know the flower's insignificant and wild.
I reach the top and balance carefully, knowing I might fall and hurt myself, or maybe even die.

I got it!

It's so plain and simple, even beautiful!
In a few moments it will wither.
Would I keep it in my pocket and forget it?
Would I keep it in a book and forget it?
Would I throw it awauy and forget it?
But as I hold it,
I think of Life, Love, God, Fate!

Life -   So mysterious and wonderful.
            How we risk it sometimes!
Love - I might show it to someone I love.
           I think of someone.
God -  There's a beautiful force beyond us, beyond our understanding.
Fate - The destiny of the plant to bear that flower, and the destiny of that flower to wither in my hand.

And if I see another flower and wish to reach it, I'll again climb the rocks .....