Lost Poems

At the bus stop

Got a seat by the window

Looking out of the dusty and stained glass

I tried to bring back all the poems I lost

In the trenches

In the market stalls

In the parks

And the homeless shelters.


No amount of contemplation

Would bring me even a single line

Of these lost verses that crossed my mind

But were never written down


How many poems lie unconscious in the trenches

or hide in fear under the market stalls

Or sleep in the park benches

How many poems shiver homeless in the shelters

That I will never retrieve.


Perhaps one of them

would have been the best I ever wrote

and yet still must now remain lost

The bus takes off

Soul Friend

They say each tree grows in its own shadow
But we are strange trees you and me
For I am entwined to you stem and roots;
Someone passing by
Would swear we are one tree
and lose that bet
But my bark is rough and yours smooth
Your leaves are the shape of the heart
and mine the shape of an arrow head

all striving for light