Iced Ground White

If rain is God’s tears,
Then what is snow?

They say that
Each one of us is unique,
Like a flake of snow
Falling from the sky.
No two are alike
And every one is beautiful
In their very own way.

And then, as we die,
One by one,
We dissolve into the earth
And the process begins again.

But within a year,
Everyone has forgotten
About the snow.

A Plan For Poetry

Something I did to myself many years ago — eleven to be exact — was force myself to write one poem every week. Observational, sometimes absurd, I wrote one per week for an entire year.

So here I am again, with a new blog, a new year, and a new pair of knickers… And what better way to ring in the roaring twenties than with anther year of running out of ideas for poems?

I’ll be posting one new poem per week, unless of course I forget, in which case the following poem will be about how I forgot… I expect it to be an entertaining and occasionally arduous experience for us all.

Amidst all the newly penned thoughts and observations, I will be re-posting all of the older poems I wrote way back when, simply for the sake of moving them to this new blog, and away from the old one, which is relatively inaccessible by now.

So here’s to a lot of absurdity, and I apologize in advance for some of the things I’m likely to write.