Who am I? Who are you to ask?
Look beyond the present - it’s here cos there’s a past.
Thirty years previous, this man was just a boy
With the world at his feet, but far beyond his reach.
His little arms grew and the world did too
I’ve walked a thousand miles in different shoes
Down pivotal paths and risky routes
Met a host of folk in passing, heard words I hope weren’t lasting.
Picking up on every vibe, whilst homing in on one
Pretending to be busy on their phones and never done

In the third grade I wrote my assignments with a quill
A writing activity that caused such a great thrill

The ink flowed onto the my homework page
Sometimes with splotches that caused such rage

It took time to learn how to use my feathered friends
But eventually learned how to make amends

Then the ink pot on my desk was eventually removed
And replaced with a ballpoint pen, writing greatly improved

(I Have Become Sorrow)

Cast aside,
Like nasty smell,
That bothersome quill,
With messy ink.

Scratchy, teeth on edge,
Troublesome contraption.
Did clever mind, rescue me?
By creative invention.

Another tool to replace.
A lesser possession.
As cheap as chips,
Quite the steal.

And never mind,
The groaning planet.
Better pennies saved,
Than ecological persuasion.

Yet now that bitter pill,
Might make me ill.

Who Am I
I am the man to be
The man that prays to always be free
That person who learns his limits so he can see
I am he

The Morose - black crows
perched on the soulless
dry branches a breath away
from the Midtown Slasher

He would stand upright
whenever a light hearted
school girl sprightly
skipped by his mournful
barren garden and
broken, chipped gnomes
and dug out holes where
more bones would find
their new homes.

I’m learning to grow.
To learn and change without permission

The sky does not demand an explanation
when the clouds need to stretch

So I carry myself,
not in perfect steps, but in patience-
Allowing myself to waver and move
without apology

To stumble and bloom
as wildflowers do-
Becoming what I have yet to be

And when the seasons change
and my petals fall and fade,
I will rest,
then bloom again.

The species and genus
known as Homo sapiens
predominated across the webbed wide world
for tens of thousands of years
until many brain children teamed together,
(though nevertheless select individuals
such as Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble
contributed, the initial vision
and much of the core technology
from Amazon's internal development efforts)
birthing Alexa Echo.

I am the summer breeze that soft, wafts through your soul,
I am the gentle shower that makes your love grow whole.
I am the sparkling snows that chill on winter’s breeze,
I am the glowing sun; I will not let you freeze.

These things I am and more, for you my lady fair.
When you ask if I be true, bowed low, this oath I swear.
My lady you are all, for you there is no task,
Nought I will not do; command me, never ask.

In you eyes I see the tears Running down you face I am not upset with you When you are crying I understand that You have you sad and happy moments Also Are you sad because Winter is not over Yes I know that you don't like the winter I also must confess to you that I just hate the winter But I go out during the winter I put my winter clothes I wear also my long johns To keep my legs warm I also boots and my winter coat And I go for walk around the block At the sane time I am letting the fresh Air go into my lungs You don't go out in the winter The winter is very long We can't no longer wait