Category Archives: Poetry

Lame attempts at poetry, generally written to please myself or as a form of self-prescribed therapy.


Purposeless motion is chaos
That ends right where it began
Wasting both time and effort
When expended without any plan

Planning gives sense of direction
Providing a goal to achieve
Setting a clear objective
And something in which to believe

But plans have a transient nature
That shift with the altering tides
Changing the traveled direction
Till my plans and future collide

And the end point I had longed for
Falls victim to what must be
So sadly I concede defeat
And forcefully subjugate me


Clear and open my mind I'm told
But nature abhors a vacuum
It refills faster than I can empty
Flitting from thought to thought
As I banish them one by one

Grab a meditative thought
A gurgling stream to fill the void
But it won't remain without effort
So I fill in the cracks and crevices
With thoughts that defeat the purpose

Meditation is deliberate boredom
I don't know how to do that...
I seemingly never really can
Shut my mind to constant work
Without falling asleep


Single threads placed one at a time
Contrasting in color and tone
When viewed from the weavers stance
Seem random and jumbled - meaningless
Laid in over time and with great effort
It asks us to wait, then step away
To discover the grander design


You say I block you from success,
That my needs cannot be met,
Without sacrificing what you need.

You have not listened to understand,
Nor given me time to teach,
What and why or discuss alternatives.

There is space in the ground between,
What you need and want aren't one,
Step back and then meet me in there.

We can do what needs doing together,
We can both find some room to withdraw,
And then forward together much stronger.

Recreational work

Stop, I'm told, and smell a rose.
Pause and take a break.
So I comply.
The smell offends my nose.

Why don't you do what others do?
I'm asked without words.
But I'm not them.
Must I pretend to be like you?

What's wrong with loving work?
Both the process and results?
Rest is wearying.
But labor refreshes and refuels.