11/06/88 old poems I wrote when my mom was sick, I was 15

poems I wrote for my mom, on this piece of paper I just found. all crunchy and old, from a time when my mom was sick. It was addressed ‘Mother Dear’ and I was 15. how in the world did I ever think this went together?

 

patterns of gold

patterns of silver

which is more costly

the gold

or the silver

one is more richer

the other, more fancy

I choose the silver

because it delights me, all my love, Colleen Johnson

the sky is blue

the grass is green

you are you

I am me

we are special

each, in our own , together

forever, I hope

we shall stay

Edgar Lee Maste…

Edgar Lee Masters (1868–1950). Spoon River Anthology. 1916.

64. George Gray

I HAVE studied many times
The marble which was chiseled for me—
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor.
In truth it pictures not my destination
But my life.
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment;
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid;
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances.
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life.
And now I know that we must lift the sail
And catch the winds of destiny
Wherever they drive the boat.
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire—
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

My favorite entry in Edgar Lee Masters’ ‘Spoon River Anthology’. It is close to my heart.