Sometimes I like to sit and brood,
Unnamed anxieties shaping my mood -
The silver light of dusk invades
Quiet thoughts as daylight fades.
Indigo hues seamlesly change into
Hammered gold of infinite range.
The master alchemist casts His spell
In a sky-sized abalone shell.
Though the sun fulfills
Its life-giving role,
The colors of sunset
Feed my soul.
Whose Mind is it, Anyway?
I have the right to smoke if I want to, I have a mind to know what I like.
My friends all do it, so it can’t be wrong to Try out the new stuff, just a short flight.
But then it came to me, if I had that right, I also could say, I’m not the type
To mess up my life for a moment of pleasure, To bow to their will, to give in to the pressure.
If they want someone to follow, let them feel free,
If I want someone to control my life
Then I want it to be me.
The blue of a mountain sky at dawn,
The azure sheen of a Delft new-born,
A glint of ice in an antarctic glacier,
In the shimmering depths of a cobalt racer.
A blue so blue as a rare gentian flower,
My mind grows faint in their reflected power.
Those Irish eyes so wild and free,
If by chance they would turn toward me.
I like to write poems for the masses. Rhyme helps move the poem forward but never at the expense of meaning.