Lost my Nerve

Lost my nerve though she seemed willing when I kissed her on the cheek. Even so I found it thrilling, I was giddy for a week.
Our next date I acted distant, thought that I could be reserved, But her kiss was so insistent,
...once again I lost my nerve.

Epitaph

The poems form a universe
within the writer's mind,
totality in metered verse,
infinity defined.

The poet gives his soul away
in portions he decides
with thoughts that ebb and flow to play
emotions like the tides.

He writes of love and other things
he may have found in me,
of broken hearts and Angel's wings
I've lost and found at sea...

of parenthood and common sense,
of brothers on "The Wall"...
revisiting their innocence
and other ports of call...

An honest bard, he re-ignites
the glaring torch of truth...
with wells of bitter ink he writes
the epitaph of youth.

Consider

Consider if you will our flying friends,
recipients of nature's greatest grants.
Imagine just how dull Earth might have been
had birds not struck a bargain with the plants.


Consider if you will a simple seed
whose embryo and sustenance combine
to give the feathered traveler his speed
and pay the fare for those they drop behind.


Consider if you will the quest of man,
digging up his world in search of power,
his universal, superficial plans
are clearing skies of birds, and Earth of flowers.

Consider now the miracle of Spring--
suspended from a petal and a wing.

© Copyright 2002 W.D. Neighbors