Poetry

THE SAND

I Declare my Write 1966
Revised for Stylish Writes 2005

The ever whistling wind stirs up the sand
You follow the sun to the promised land.
Water breaks from the shore
You realize that this is not a dream anymore
But a revelation to transcend
To the heavens of all men
To hope and pray
That someday
There will be peace on earth
And good will to all men.

THE TREES

Poetic Writes 2003

Don't take the trees for granted
They could die and leave you stranded.

STE.-CATHERINE STREET, MONTREAL, QUE.

Poetic Writes 2003

On Ste.-Catherine street the car horns go
honking,
the lights go flashing,
people's hearts go thumping
and I yell out...
See, see, see.
At night I'm driving my car and I ask
"is this really me?"
Because I want to grab all the sights
and sounds of the city.
Montreal is not a dream.
It is a reality.
The night life is divine.
Montreal... you are all mine.

A HELPING HAND

Poetic Writes 2003

I need a literary agent honest and true.
To work at first for free and I will give him
a lot of work to do.
If he makes me famous
his reward won't be a pittance.
In fact he will have earned
a substantial remittance
and I will be happy to pay him
With gratitude.