I look out the window Into “our woods” And notice the awe With which I hold This time and place. It was not always so. Which allows now To hold even more Gratitude for me. The giant dreamcatcher Hovers between Two trees and Invites me into Further dreaming. For I have been dreaming All along. […]
I rarely edit my poetry. I don’t remember why I got into this practice. It probably has to do with my love of improvisation. Life is like that. We have to make it up as we go. Otherwise, it could seem to be too twisty. I like predictability and I like surprise. Well, I’m not
We built this house. Though the concrete and two-by-fours Were already in place We surely built it. It was our hands that turned it Into an artists house And made it into a home. Without your eye for beauty And mine for practicality, None of this would have Come to pass. It is an extraordinary
Has it been hours or days? I really can’t remember. The soft touch of your cheek Against mine seems still-present And long ago — Simultaneously. So I wait in longing, Expectant anticipation. Cannot believe this is What I live for And, then again, believe it with All my heart. Fatigue will not win out. Though
It starts easy enough. We are born. Perhaps we are born again While we — and those we love — Still live. And then we learn that Surviving is not the sole purpose For being here. Being alive is not so much the point. What we long for is the life That can be in
“Can I get a hug, please?” Those moments when we hang on By what feels like a single thread Are not always what they seem. There is always more here than What we see. What we cannot see is a magnitude Larger than what we can. Thinking that our simple, Self-contained senses can fathom Even
I spoke of the dream And it inspired you To inspire me. We woke in the Lush warmth of each other And began to make the dream Our reality. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2010 by muz4now, Inc. All Rights Reserved. 24/1,000
Words have different meanings To different people And in different lands. When I woke up this morning (Later than usual), I was not ready to start. I was more ready to end Or at least return to my slumber. You can’t think for a second that I was being purely lazy. That was not it
As the wind trespasses Through the woods Next to our house The dog barks. Wind does not know any better, So it goes wherever it wants To go. Water is contained within Banks and buffeted by rocks. The breeze has no such Limitations. When it chooses to waft Easily between trunks And grazing deer, It
When friends trust me with their darkest secrets, I’m always amazed. It’s as if a whole world is opened to me That never existed before. Tremendous and minute, these worlds Are as precious as if they Were mine. I hold them so and do not Discuss them in poetry. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright ©
