It’s not that we don’t Have worries, wonders and longings. It’s that we don’t know How to quell or fulfill them In a timely fashion. Oh, to be like a leaf on a tree. It has a clear purpose, But fulfills its destiny Without concern, stress Or self-absorbed disregard For all the other leaves In […]
A friend calls. I have news, but do not want To seem too pushy. I’m thinking — for some reason — that My news will Take over the conversation. And I’m thinking that would be sub-optimal. He’s a good friend And I’m glad to listen to His tales and questions. And then, he pauses. I
What if the poet has no words? What if the painter has no paints? What if the crafter has no glue And the musician, no song? Then, what would we call “art”? Would it be the way we decide on What ingredients to mix together In our meals? Or the timing of when to open
Why is it that adults put So little importance on Their favorite color? There’s nothing to be Embarrassed about. It’s a simple attraction. Having them is like Having a tiny itch: We may be able to Analyze and learn Much from knowing Just why this is So intriguing to us. But this is as if
Entering into the forest at night, Far from the over-lighted, packed-in Huddles of civilization, The dark backdrop of sky is Riddled with stars. They look to me like an enclave Of individuals: each one vibrant (Even if not so bright) As the next; Their twinkling moments Often come in waves of Synchronicity. In other
As the light changes with Evening, it invites My eyes to dim In harmony with it. Today, I accept The invitation and Go the way of a Setting sun. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011, 2017 by muz4now, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
Dipping into our outer Edges of consciousness, The moon climbs up The mountain of darkness And creates a lamp To bring the night Into view. It does not question Its purpose as it Travels through this nightly Sojourn. And it does So whether it is Seen or hidden From our view. When it has no
However dark The early morning, I know that the Sun is coming. I wake. Anticipation’s door Opens into another Bountiful day. Sometimes, in the Darkness, I am not Yet sure what The bounty will be. And so I open my Eyes not knowing Yet exactly which Moment will bring The dawn. ~ by Stan Stewart
Beautiful: This poem Really Is “for” you. Yours is the One smile Guaranteed To bring out mine. Your request Is the one I cannot refuse. Your eyes The ones I long To gaze into When everything Else is placing Demands on me Or you. This is real. Really. ~ by Stan Stewart Copyright © 2011
The inception of The dream Is rarely like Its ending. The dream Begins With the Dreamer. After starting, Everything is Up for grabs. Will the hero And the heroine Be everlasting? Or will they Even survive Until the final Curtain? I don’t need to Be the hero Or the survivalist. I only need to Live
