In The Beginning

The highchair beside the kitchen door,
my domain,;vantage point of my world.
On the linoleum checker board floor,
I played until my knees were sore.

The center of the world to me,
I learned to know as my mother
cooked and cleaned while I was free,
to grow into what I might be.

A world consisting of black and white,
as appropriate as the days television.
Images remembered vivid and bright,
raised by my mother in love and light.

Stoic Poetry

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Their Path

Fiddle, faddle, and fuss
Since birth 
Chasing and grasping

They knew; they said so
We listened
And so off we go

They lied to us again
And lived
With their pain

Stoic Poetry

No Words

I used to have words 
The turn of a phrase
Eloquence in the sound

I used to find words
Unknown to most
Change was not found

I now have no words 
Yet live by the meaning
To the truth now bound

Stoic Poetry