The Homeless

We are the men with no names
that roam and clutter your streets
curling in the corner of doorways
half-hidden under a bridge
lay on a blanket of mud.
We are the men with no names
who are haunted by the past
and fearful of the present.
Our feet fester
and our bodies know no end to pain.
We are the men with no names
We cry out for you
our brothers and our sisters
but our cries are washed away
with the wind
and our tears are dried by the sun.
We are the forgotten ones
the men with no names
drifting along your streets
waiting for death

published in: – Frontline

A Handful of Flowers

A little boy with a handful of flowers
looked at me and said “hello”
quite natural like
lacking all the discipline of politeness
It was with warmth and innocence
and then he was gone.
Let us preserve the world for little boys
that walk with flowers in their hands

published in: Innerself and – Frontline

The Phoenix

There is a phoenix within us all
that calls from the depths of our being
when we listen
we hear
continue on
physical limitations are but an invitation
to another route
for there are many roads to the mountain top
so let not the mind slumber in the past but awaken to new frontiers of enlightenment
and if the body falters
strengthen the spirit
and behold the feelings of despair will burn away
and out of the ashes the phoenix
will ascend
to carry you to a world of splendor
where knowledge, beauty and job reside
so make haste
the royal bird readies itself for flights to heights you never dreamed of

published in: Innerself 1994 and – FrontLine