From the author:

From the Author:

I will not introduce myself.
I will not ask "How do?"
I will not wave, I will not bow,
Or shake a hand with you.

For I am not polite, my friend;
I have no social grace.
Like you, I have no manners,
And I never learned my place.

Instead I'll write a poem
And I'll put myself in verse,
And if you like the sound of me,
Well, THEN we might converse.

So read a line or two of me,
Or don't, if it's a chore,
But since you've read fifteen of me
I bet you'll read one more.


Click here to contact the author
(...or don't...he doesn't really trust emails from children. They can be sticky).

Friday, 23 October 2015

The Meteor's Wish



If I were a meteor, I would wish
for more sky and less fire.  I would wish
to forget this brief falling. I would wish
for four strong wings to beat back
the hard and disintegrating air,
to rise into frictionless
space, to sail again
and always,
timeless,
around
a still
blue
orb.

Down here, I think that if I were a meteor,
I would wish on the first eyes I saw tonight
that I was not a meteor but stardust
and singing speed. But I am not
a meteor; I’m only
its falling
wish.




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