How old are you?
How old are we,
Who knows,
As old as time
Itself,
As young as
Tomorrow
Or the start of
A snap of the finger,
No really,
How old are you?
I gave him a number
And he left seemingly
Satisfied,
Sometimes we need a
Label for our illusions,
So we can put them in
A little brown paper bag
And keep on collecting.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
5:59 AM October 31, 2014
So we write
The words that come
Bite our lips
Teeth our tongues,
Wonder what
The meanings are,
How did it all
Come so far
From simply inking
Rhyming.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
7:29 AM October 30, 2014
A crazy morning,
Crazy in the sense
That some things
Make no sense,
Calm after the
Tail end of Ana,
Nerve racking watching
A thirteen year old
Testing her wings,
Helpless speaking with
A terminally ill friend
Grasping at straws and things,
Not sure if he will
Make Christmas,
Wondering out loud
If hash oil could be
His magic potion,
And I, a hippy sort
With no knowledge of drugs
Except for that tune,
Love Potion Number Nine.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
9:48 AM October 29, 2014
The person you know
Isn’t necessarily
The person
Others may know,
To me Dale and Hannah
Were sweet individuals,
Not a couple,
Just friends,
Both died
Relatively quickly,
Relatively young,
From cancer,
Strange how that goes.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
7:12 AM October 28, 2014
Waiting the tail end
Of tropical storm Ana
Ninety some winds
And buckets of rain,
Reminds me a bit
Of a gal I once knew
Tore through her fellows
Like hungry through stew,
If she blew out
I’m not really certain
If she’s still blowing
It’s hurtin and curtains.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
10:49 AM October 27, 2014
On Sunday morning,
You know that time
Just before waking,
Replaying bits of dreams
From the night
That’s quickly leaving,
Bumping into thoughts
From time that’s passed,
From time that’s yet
To be,
On Sunday morning
Just before waking,
You arrived in
Naked splendor,
The goddess of
Sleeping in,
Keeping me from waking.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
7:37 AM October 26, 2014
You are the architect
Of your life,
Your attitude,
Your character,
The qualities that
Define who and what
You are,
You spend all
Of your time
With you,
You are the architect,
You can point
At others, at events,
At circumstances
And say that is why
Who and what I am,
But that is your illusion,
Your excuse,
You are the architect
Of your life.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
6:05 AM October 25, 2014
I wondered where
She’d been,
Who she’d seen,
Who had played
Inside her,
Her gorgeous looks,
Sweet sexy lines,
Easy to be in love
With Wyndspree.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
8:57 AM October 24, 2014
Of course the question
How ?
Sits unspoken
In many minds,
With all of the political
Babble about awareness,
How ?
Does the Wizard Of Oz
Keep slipping into
Your thoughts,
Politicians and leaders,
Some so eager to send
Our children into war,
Hiding behind locked doors
Barricaded with tables and chairs.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
9:49 AM October 23, 2014
It seems some people
Are just born
Assholes,
Perhaps it’s the
Proximity to the vicinity,
Maybe a wet fart,
When they arrived
That sticks to them.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
From “Dockside” www.StrangersAndPoetry.com
11:00 AM October 22, 2014
