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Like Sunlight


I was arguing with you
about love and falling in and out
of love.
This morning, like sunlight
the golden Buddha rises, laughing. The sound
of laughter like sunlight
Sometimes we laugh together. It's
the best we can do. I don't know


The seriousness is grave and
thoughts are depressing, a darkness that spreads further
than we realize. It feels like death. Cold.
Bitter. Howling. The mountain we had
climbed so very far away, our breaths turned
into ice.


There are no bombs in this urban decay.
No missiles launched. The dirty money we
send overseas.
No drones breaking up the sky with a parasitic death.
No hunger this Thanksgiving Day.
Not in Ohio City. Not in the USA.
We live in a country of celebration. The good guys with
the white hats, cowboys and cowgirls all. Grown-ups
serving soup kitchen spoonfuls of cynical compassion.


The night is never dark for there is starlight. The moon opens wide her grin.
The nameless fall where there is not hope. The hopeless haunt and steal love.
We falter in the guiding light.
We fall and fly with the same broken wings.
Sometimes you are wind, and
sometimes I am sorrow.

Editing stage: 


I never have liked poems which are broken up by Roman numerals. To me it's too much like a formal outline. Much better in my opinion to tripple space between stanzas or almost anything else. Hope you and yours have a good Thanksgiving.................stan

Loved " The moon opens wide her grin."
And what a grin, when the poem is about confusion in
communication between two who new each other well.

"After all , one knows only those whom one really
understands, and one completely understands
only those whom one really likes." Su Tung-Po.

Sometimes we use our minds too much, to sort out feelings,
when the simplest directness can tell a thousand words.

Cynical compassion, ow. And there are you celebrating,
while we are only celebrating that we live at all, Skaal!

And a glass of love to you and Barry. Ann.

"The image of yourself which you see in a mirror Is dead,
but the reflection of the moon on water, lives." Kenzan.

Hi Stan and Ann (it rhymes!)

Much love to you and yours. To all Neopoets.


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