belwrites.com

The poets' life is one of touching the soft places and finding the connections to humanity.

Poetry is the science of thought. In reality it's a pulling togather of a sometime visual image. Other times poetry is a concept shaped in the mind that has life, an essence of its own.

Paper Memory

He sat
at his desk.
A cup of coffee
in hand.

Quietly recalling
the moments of lost time
and a fading memory

Now papers
cover his desk
some
more important than others.

Each holding
a note of remembrance.
More and more
they’ve become
his memory.

A sip of coffee
steadies his nerves
and begins his search
for another paper memory



Next Poem:

Broken Promises

He sat at the dinner table
staring at his Father empty chair
Mother had told him
daddy went on a trip

He stares
at his mash potatoes
watching the steam rise.
But Jim notices
there's something different
about daddy’s chair.

Its been three days now,
but mother said
daddy will be back soon.
Even at six years old
Jim knows something is wrong.

He hears the soft muffle sounds
of his mother
crying in the kitchen.
It reminds him
of a newly born kitten
crying for its mother.

But, mother told him
daddy’s coming back soon.
Mother must be right
because all daddy's stuff
is still here.

She sits down to eat,
looking like a limp rag doll.
With eyes red and swollen
she forces a smile for me.

Jim grabs mother’s soft hand
and squeezes it tenderly.
Mother, we'll be alright
daddy’s coming home soon.

Her tearful bloodshot eyes
told Jim the truth.
Jim wonders
how daddy's feeling

without them.

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