Kaspalita warns of cliché, teaches definition.
I
want to write of death and birth
and things of earth and
sky
and feelings I search deep
to find that hide from light
and sight.
Is it new and true and worthy
to be called a poem
free from cliché?

Can I say something new?
It is merely my view
of eternal experience for who
can stand in my shoes but me?
Not you.

Poet
I am not.

Josephine and Roslyn

A death and a birth.
transport me back
34 years.
When my arms did hold you
Alice.
Safely, finally, returned to me
from icu.
And my father,
finally able to let go of life
now surely knowing
that his only daughter’s
only daughter
arrived
and lived.

But I couldn’t say ‘goodbye’.

This is new
for me
This memory.
Unique
And mine alone.