AND: Write your own poems!
Tanka
I have forgotten
how to get shivers
from a song
with my bare foot
on the gas pedal.
Haiku
rain clacks on the roof
like a softer typewriter--
is it writing spring?
On Turning 68
They sneak up on you, the years, like a summer cold
One minute you’re thirty-two, the next you’re old
Not a big deal, just a speed bump on the road
to something more serious, impossible to ignore
All the more reason to keep it simple: no grousing,
no mirrors, no regrets
A toast to life, then, and maybe later an antic jig
to the strains of Prokofiev.
Everlasting Love
Love
is not a mutual thing,
not light or heavy,
blissful, or sad,
it's neither serious nor reckless,
is it helpful or useless?
Love,
is not a gift,
or a miracle from heaven,
it's not far or near,
it can't be seen,
though it is everywhere,
and it is not given, nor is it lost,
at times there is, at others, there isn't
it doesn't begin, nor does it end,
but when you feel it,
it will breathe deeply within you,
in the hope of new encounters,
or in the last trapped breaths of the end,
And now that I think about it,
in Love
do you want
that I want you,
or do you believe that love
is reciprocal
or a coin exchanged
between characters in a book,
In love,
do you just want
like this,
like no one else does?
Love, they say,
has no age,
no color, race, or creed,
and yet,
Love is as it is,
it can't be explained,
nor does it have an algorithm,
and when it is remembered,
it cannot be unremembered,
gets everything it wants,
and even gets used to death,
has in life its only possibility,
and I don't know what it will be like elsewhere,
but here on Earth,
Love is a bit of everything,
or as a great poet says,
Love is always Love,
and endless stream
of everlasting Love
https://rolandoandrade.substack.com/p/everlasting-love
Tanka
I have forgotten
how to get shivers
from a song
with my bare foot
on the gas pedal.
Haiku
rain clacks on the roof
like a softer typewriter--
is it writing spring?
On Turning 68
They sneak up on you, the years, like a summer cold
One minute you’re thirty-two, the next you’re old
Not a big deal, just a speed bump on the road
to something more serious, impossible to ignore
All the more reason to keep it simple: no grousing,
no mirrors, no regrets
A toast to life, then, and maybe later an antic jig
to the strains of Prokofiev.
Everlasting Love
Love
is not a mutual thing,
not light or heavy,
blissful, or sad,
it's neither serious nor reckless,
is it helpful or useless?
Love,
is not a gift,
or a miracle from heaven,
it's not far or near,
it can't be seen,
though it is everywhere,
and it is not given, nor is it lost,
at times there is, at others, there isn't
Love,
it doesn't begin, nor does it end,
but when you feel it,
it will breathe deeply within you,
in the hope of new encounters,
or in the last trapped breaths of the end,
And now that I think about it,
in Love
do you want
that I want you,
or do you believe that love
is reciprocal
or a coin exchanged
between characters in a book,
In love,
do you just want
that I want you,
like this,
like no one else does?
Love, they say,
has no age,
no color, race, or creed,
and yet,
Love is as it is,
it can't be explained,
nor does it have an algorithm,
and when it is remembered,
it cannot be unremembered,
Love,
gets everything it wants,
and even gets used to death,
Love,
has in life its only possibility,
and I don't know what it will be like elsewhere,
but here on Earth,
Love is a bit of everything,
or as a great poet says,
Love is always Love,
and endless stream
of everlasting Love
https://rolandoandrade.substack.com/p/everlasting-love