You

.

c

a

n

.

spin

.

t

h

e

.

gloating

.

a

n

d

.

the

greed

–

–

into

dancing

dreams

.

a

n

d

.

fantasies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

plaster

.

y

o

u

r

.

walls

.

w

i

t

h

.

plasticine

prestige

.

a

n

d

.

seeming

celebrity . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

paint

.

a

n

d

.

set

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

these

stately,

–

–

sparkling

scenes

.

f

r

o

m

.

sea

.

t

o

.

sating

sea . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ presenting

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every

.

o

f

.

these . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

t

o

–

–

–

the

grandest

.

o

f

.

deeds . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

~ into

.

t

h

e

.

greatest

.

o

f

.

opportunities . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

do

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

this

–

–

with

such

–

–

selfish

ease . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

do

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

this

–

–

without

losing

–

–

your

peace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

do

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

this

–

–

without

caring

–

–

what

.

t

h

e

.

future

brings . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

do

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

this . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

c

a

n

.

do

–

–

all

.

o

f

.

this . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

much

better

.

t

h

a

n

.

me.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote about those who can seemingly go through life doing whatever they please without worrying about who they hurt or what the impact might be. I wrote this poem using a much-loved song (“Statuette” by Emily Haines). I played this song in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” while writing this poem and the repeating lyrics “better than me” really hit me in a haunting sort of way and caused me to think – even though the context within the song was a bit different from the way I used it in the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

could

have

–

–

lived

a

life

–

–

–

much

brighter

–

–

than

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

could

have

–

–

lived

a

life

–

–

–

much

better

–

–

than

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

so

often

I

ride

–

o

n

–

the

low

side

–

o

f

–

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

ride

–

o

n

–

the

low

side

–

o

f

–

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

the

pages

–

–

fly

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

the

pages

–

–

fly

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

time,

–

–

after

time,

–

–

after

time,

–

–

after

time,

–

–

after

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

then

I

realize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ yes

then

I

realize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

all

–

t

h

e

–

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

all

that

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

have

–

–

lived

a

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

have

–

–

lived

a

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

much

brighter

–

t

h

a

n

–

bright . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

life

–

–

much

better

–

t

h

a

n

–

mine . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

so

often

I

ride

–

o

n

–

the

low

side

–

o

f

–

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

ride

–

o

n

–

the

low

side

–

o

f

–

high . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

pages

–

–

fly

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

pages

–

–

fly

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

the

pages

–

–

fly

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

then

I

realize . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

all

–

t

h

e

–

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

all

that

time . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

–

a

l

l

–

I

would

write

–

–

–

would

only

–

–

ever

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

that

this

–

w

a

s

–

my

life.

Reflection:  This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote. I saw an Album by Marilyn Manson titled “The High End of Low” and played with the words which drove me to write “the low side of high” and those words drove the remainder of the poem. 

You

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy,

–

–

with

.

t

h

e

.

beautiful

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy,

–

–

I’ve

wanted

.

a

l

l

.

the

while . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

fine,

–

–

white,

–

–

bright,

.

.

s

h

y.

.

.

smile,

–

–

kind

.

o

f

.

guy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

filled

.

w

i

t

h

.

sunshine

.

a

n

d

.

summertime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ filled

.

w

i

t

h

.

sunshine

.

a

n

d

.

summertime . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

reflected

within

.

t

h

e

.

aisles,

–

–

upon

aisles,

–

–

upon

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

hopeful,

–

–

wanting

eyes,

.

.

n

o

w

.

.

dimming

within

.

d

a

y

s

.

gone

by . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ a

sunshine

.

a

n

d

.

summertime

.

w

h

i

c

h

.

wines

.

a

n

d

.

dines

.

b

y

.

candlelight,

.

.

m

y

.

.

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

dream

.

o

f

.

delight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ my

each

.

a

n

d

.

every

dream

.

o

f

.

delight . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

night,

–

–

after

night,

–

–

after

night,

–

–

after

night,

–

–

after

night . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

the

aisles . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

.

t

h

e

.

aisles

.

o

f

.

hopeful,

–

–

wanting

eyes . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

you

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

You

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

with

.

t

h

e

.

.

beautiful

smile . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ you

.

a

r

e

.

that

guy . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I’ve

wanted

.

a

l

l

.

the

while.

Reflection: This was a romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in January of 2021 about a strong infatuation I had with someone I barely knew and only came into contact with occasionally. I used the haunting song “Another Thing” (and several other songs on the same album) by Homeshake playing in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for this poem. If you listen to the song(s) at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn,

–

–

long

beyond

–

–

where

.

t

h

a

t

.

road

.

h

a

d

.

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ long

beyond

–

–

where

.

o

l

d

.

dreams

.

h

a

d

.

run,

.

.

s

o

.

.

young

.

a

n

d

.

fun

.

i

n

.

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

that

.

w

a

s

.

beats

before

.

y

o

u

.

came

along . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

.

w

a

s

.

bars

before

–

–

I

started

singing

.

t

h

a

t

.

song . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

b

u

t

–

–

–

now

even

–

–

brighter

days

.

a

r

e

.

black . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

drowning

.

i

n

.

the

lack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

there’s

.

n

o

.

going

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

there’s

.

n

o

.

going

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There’s

.

n

o

.

going

back

.

t

o

.

the

days

.

t

h

a

t

.

used

.

t

o

.

smile

.

a

n

d

.

laugh . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there’s

.

n

o

.

going

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There’s

.

n

o

.

going

back

.

t

o

.

the

days

.

t

h

a

t

.

used

.

t

o

.

dance

.

a

n

d

.

clap . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ there’s

.

n

o

.

going

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn,

–

–

long

beyond

–

–

where

.

t

h

a

t

.

road

.

h

a

d

.

gone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ long

beyond

–

–

where

.

o

l

d

.

dreams

.

h

a

d

.

run,

.

.

s

o

.

.

young

.

a

n

d

.

fun

.

i

n

.

everyone . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

There

once

.

w

a

s

.

a

dawn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I’m

still

–

–

holding

on.

Reflection: 

This poem reflects a personal struggle where the sufferer looks back and broods about a past where possibilities and opportunities presented themselves but were cast aside on the roll of the dice that better, brighter things might come his or her way instead. They never had but there is the hope that the sufferer is still holding on and might better appreciate a future possibility or opportunity that comes his/her way.

I played the wonderful gem of a song “Holding On” by The War on Drugs in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

peered

beneath

.

t

h

e

.

matt

.

a

n

d

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

crack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

.

.

.

.

.

f

e

l

l

.

.

.

into

.

t

h

e

.

crack . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

bathed

.

i

n

.

black . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

bathed

.

i

n

.

black

–

–

–

.

.

.

u

n

t

i

l

–

–

–

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

u

n

t

i

l

–

–

–

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back

.

t

o

.

the

dance

.

a

n

d

.

romance . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back

.

t

o

.

the

elegant

.

a

n

d

.

grand . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

could

.

n

o

t

.

come

back . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

I

laughed.

Reflection: This was a popular personal struggle themed poem that I wrote back in December of 2020. The sufferer has experienced so many struggles in life that he/she has permanently changed the self and his/her overall life experience. Ultimately, the sufferer embraces the permanent change.

I used the song “Enjoy the Silence” by Depeche Mode playing in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for this poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

Is

.

i

t

.

better

.

o

r

.

worse

.

t

o

.

move

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

hurt ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

Is

.

i

t

.

better

.

o

r

.

worse

.

t

o

.

blend

.

w

i

t

h

.

the

blur ?

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

even

though

.

I

.

have

learned

.

t

o

.

lean

.

a

n

d

.

merge

.

i

n

t

o

.

the

twists

.

a

n

d

.

turns . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

still

hear

.

t

h

o

s

e

.

words . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

places

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

still

feel

.

t

h

a

t

.

urge . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

places

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

c

a

n

.

still

remember

.

t

h

a

t

.

allure . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

places

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

places

.

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

yearn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

turn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

hurt . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

blur . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

better . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Another

worse . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

i

n

–

–

–

places

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ in

places

.

where

.

t

h

e

.

candles

.

s

t

i

l

l

.

burn.

Reflection: This was a forgotten, but powerful romantic-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2020 where the affected party struggles to move beyond relationship(s) of the past – because there are certain memories where “the candles still burn,” and select present day encounters which spark those memories and make them continue coming alive. Even when the affected party gets into new relationships, he or she still gets haunted and taunted by the past.

I played the wonderful gem of a song “Deacon Blues” by Steely Dan in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

I

am

just

–

a

n

–

adventurous

kind . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

who

does

–

n

o

t

–

like

–

t

h

e

–

boring

–

a

n

d

–

dry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

do

–

n

o

t

–

like

–

t

h

e

–

boring

–

a

n

d

–

dry . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

that

–

w

a

s

–

the

high

–

o

f

–

my

last

life . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ that

.

w

a

s

.

the

high

–

o

f

–

the

last

time.

Reflection: This was a reflective-themed poem I wrote in reflection of a post I saw on social media from someone stating: “I hate boring and dry” as a note for the next person he/she would want to have a relationship with. Those words struck a chord and poetic rhythm with me and I then proceeded to write this simple, short poem. 

I

.

s

a

w

.

today

–

–

just

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

–

–

faraway

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ I

.

s

a

w

.

just

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

–

–

faraway

place,

–

–

baked

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

.

laced,

–

–

cinnamon

glaze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now,

nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace

.

t

h

a

t

.

tantalizing

taste . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace

.

t

h

a

t

.

chronic

crave . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ no,

nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

n

o

r

–

–

–

take

away . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace,

.

.

n

o

r

.

.

take

away

.

t

h

e

.

memory

.

o

f

.

the

dancing

–

–

reign

.

o

f

.

yesterdays,

–

–

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

grace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

careless

plays . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ the

yesterdays

–

–

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

grace . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

haze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

lost

in

.

t

h

e

.

careless

plays

.

o

f

.

distant

days . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ distant

days

–

–

lost

.

i

n

.

careless

plays

–

–

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again,

.

a

n

d

.

again . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

s

a

w

.

today

–

–

just

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

–

–

faraway

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

s

a

w

.

today

–

–

just

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

–

–

faraway

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

I

.

s

a

w

.

today

–

–

just

.

a

.

trace

.

o

f

.

that

–

–

faraway

place . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

baked

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

.

laced,

–

–

cinnamon

glaze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ it

.

w

a

s

.

baked

.

i

n

t

o

.

a

.

laced,

–

–

cinnamon

glaze . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now,

nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace

.

t

h

a

t

.

tantalizing

taste . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

nothing

.

c

a

n

.

replace

.

t

h

a

t

.

chronic

crave.

Reflection: This was a forgotten but powerful personal struggle-themed poem where the affected party struggles with the torturous tease and tantalizing aspects of an addiction/compulsion he or she is seeking to permanently overcome. I played the wonderful gem of a song “Jumbo Jet” by Shout Out Louds in the background to create the “moodset” for the poem. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.

A

stream

.

o

f

.

maybes

–

–

wanders

aimlessly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

seeking

promise

.

a

n

d

.

possibility . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ seeking

promise

.

a

n

d

.

possibility . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

–

–

after

day,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

week,

–

–

after

week . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

play,

–

–

after

play,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

street,

–

–

after

street . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

That

one’s

.

t

o

o
.

green,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

that

one

.

t

o

o

.

peach . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

That

one’s

.

t

o

o

.

salty,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

that

one

.

t

o

o

.

sweet . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

f

o

r

–

–

–

everything

.

i

s

.

either

–

–

out

.

o

f

.

reach,

.

.

o

r

.

.

in

between . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ out

.

o

f

.

reach,

.

.

o

r

.

.

in

between,

.

f

o

r

.

maybe . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Maybe

wanders

aimlessly . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

seeking

promise

.

a

n

d

.

possibility . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ seeking

promise

.

a

n

d

.

possibility . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

day,

–

–

after

day,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

week,

–

–

after

week . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

play,

–

–

after

play,

.

.

a

n

d

.

.

street,

–

–

after

street . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

dream,

–

–

after

dream,

–

–

after

dream,

–

–

after

dream,

–

–

after

dream . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

each,

.

a

n

d

.

all,

.

a

n

d

.

every,

–

–

racing

ahead . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ racing

ahead

.

a

t

.

such

speed . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

s

–

–

–

to

be

–

–

forever

out

.

o

f

.

reach . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ to

be

–

–

forever

out

.

o

f

.

reach . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

far

beyond

empty . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ far

beyond

.

t

h

e

.

bankruptcies,

–

–

fed

.

b

y

.

the

hopes

.

a

n

d

.

dreams

.

o

f

.

those

attempting

.

t

o

.

cash

out

–

–

their

fantasies . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

o

f

–

–

–

those

attempting

.

t

o

.

cash

out

–

–

their

wandering

streams . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

 ~ their

wandering

streams

.

o

f

.

maybe.

Reflection: This was a popular personal struggle-themed poem that I wrote back in November of 2020 where the affected party is scattered by having too many possibilities and too little focus to be able to capitalize on much of any of them. I heard a song that sounded like it had lyrics that said “maybe drives” and liked the use of the word in that context – so that idea helped create the poem.

The

sadness

.

o

f

.

the

sea

.

i

s

.

all

around

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

khaki

.

i

s

.

the

color

.

o

f

.

the

memory . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

  ~ the

memory

.

o

f

.

all

that

.

w

a

s

.

once

.

s

o

.

free

.

a

n

d

.

green . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

  ~ of

.

a

l

l

.

that

.

w

a

s

.

once

.

s

o

.

free

.

a

n

d

.

green

.

.

i

n

.

.

the

spring . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

  ~ so

free

.

a

n

d

.

green

.

.

i

n

.

.

the

spring . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

was

.

t

h

e

.

all

.

a

n

d

.

everything

.

o

f

.

what

we

–

–

thought

we

–

–

could

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

  ~ of

what

we

–

–

thought

we

–

–

could

be . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

now

only

–

–

echoes

know

–

–

how

.

i

t

.

truly

feels

.

t

o

.

let

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Only

echoes

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Only

echoes

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

Only

echoes

know . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

how

.

i

t

.

feels

.

t

o

.

let

go . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

sadness

.

o

f

.

the

sea

.

i

s

.

all

around

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

sadness

.

o

f

.

the

sea

.

i

s

.

all

around

me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

The

sadness

.

o

f

.

the

sea

.

i

s

.

all

around
me . . .

–

–

–

.

.

.

a

n

d

–

–

–

khaki

.

i

s

.

the

color

.

o

f

.

the

memory,

.

o

f

.

all

that

.

w

a

s

.

once

.

s

o

.

free

.

a

n

d

.

green . . .

–

–

.

.

.

  ~ of

.

a

l

l

.

that

.

w

a

s

.

once

.

s

o

.

free

.

a

n

d

.

green

.

.

i

n

.

.

the

spring.

Reflection: This was a popular, reflective-themed poem I wrote back in October of 2020. The contemplator looks back on a free-wheeling freedom that is no longer present in his/her life.

I used the song “Diamonds and Rust” by Joan Baez which I played in the background at low volume to create the “moodset” for the poem. The song really seemed to fit. If you listen to the song at low volume while reading this poem, you might better get the “feel” of it.