Sailing to windward Poems

If life
was more than a teardrop,
clinging,
briefly,
...

Ages ago,
he converted
to envy
...

When I’m gone, I will be
quiet as a mouse;
My scent upon the pillow still,
But I will have left the house.
...

What's expected of this thing called hope;
is it a medicine; is it just smoke?
Merely a screen - perhaps a misty haze,
to sweeten our journey around life's maze?
...

At birth,
a tag on the wrist
generates a list
of places one may roam.
...

I am left behind
In constant state of catching
Up flies another target
And I miss
...

In community lies strength of numbers.
to support the sick and the weak.
In community somebody hears me,
with louder voices to speak
...

The temple siren calls, deep within his walls,
stirring in his isolation, a need for expression and creation.
Reaching for notelets, grabbing at memorets and pigeon holes,
his hands slide and his memory glides,
...

The hat that fits the head that shakes
knows not the warmth that nodding makes.
The shirt worn on the back that turns
knows not the joy that friendship earns.
...

Cinnamon coloured slingbacks dangle from her fingers,
as she searches the tide line for discarded gems.
A warm steady breeze whispers somewhere offshore,
but she turns her head in fear of sandy eyes.
...