The Poem In Our Soul

There is within each one of us
a piece of poetry.
For some it's words, for others song,
but look for it—you'll see.

For each of us there is a rhythm
gently keeping time,
that bends and shapes our views of life
and touches us with rhyme.

The poems are unique and new
and ageless in their forms—
a searching, haunting melody,
a flood of words like storms.

Within the jangled, jumbled lives
we lead from day to day,
we lose our simple poet selves,
and stumble on our way.

We must learn to take the time
to listen and to know—
the one truth we must follow is
the poem in our soul.

Unfinished Pieces

This is a poem to my mother who died too soon
and left too many unfinished pieces
in her life and mine.
Guided by passion, driven by obsession,
you touched upon perfection with your music
and quit.
I don't know why.
Your passions exploded in hot temper,
quick and violent, impatient with me
and others who did not seek perfection.
Driving and driven ... guide and obstruction.
Sentimental, forceful, intelligent,
supporting and shattering fragile dreams.
Fierce lioness protecting her pride,
frightening predator devouring confidence.
But you were always there,
sometimes more than I wanted,
other times as my refuge.
But now you're gone,...
and I'll never know why you quit.