Saturday, November 27, 2004

Poetry --my own verse

A thin volume of my own poems has lain hidden for years, sometimes trucked around in a cardboard box, sometimes hauled around in a book bag. Recently we unearthed it while cleaning house.

I have reviewed it, and though much of it embarrasses me, there may be some verse that will be of interest to someone in the wide world. I'm re-copying some of it for a friend on the West Coast.

I have waited for far too long. The verses do no good sitting idle. I will revise some of it, print out maybe half, and try again to get it published. I have learned the meaning of persistance, finally.

Here's one:


It's a nice word -- "hello."
__________________You hear it on streets,
____________________sunny and green.
__________________It's spoke in hallways,
____________________bustling and noisy...
__________________sometimes quiet, and romantic
_____________________--in its own little way.
__________________"Hello" is also heard in forests,
__________________shopping centers, ranches, and --yes,
____________________even in nuclear subs...
__________________"Hello" sometimes is a shiny warm brown
__________________like a buckeye, polished shoes, or
____________________friendly eyes.

__________________A true hello, very real
____________________can also be green,
__________________dark, wet, and spritely -- like a pine;
____________________very noble, and diplomatic.
__________________Sometimes, when one is feeling happy,
____________________it will be a big bright solid
__________________beaming onward its cheery infinity.
__________________"Hello, George! Hello John!"

____________________It's good to know
__________________that hello can blend, can change,
____________________but also be consistent.
____________________Listen to hello when it is blue.
__________________steadily it speaks out its silent reality
__________________dreamily pouring fourth
______________________Very idealistic.


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