Social people...morning coffee
Six A. M...morning cuppa coffee
Same old people…same old place
Morning s greeting’s, sleepily carefree
Tossed at one another, with careless grace
Rattle of morning paper… new day.. same old news
Coffeehouse camaraderie, over steaming cups of ‘Joe’
Nice place to chase away the blues…..with
Fraternal feelings from people we barely know
Just a social group…of morning people
Treating one another with social grace
Jobless…but not hopeless
Same old people…same old place
poem by David Whalen
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Other one's words
We all go to sleep
With someone’s words
In our minds
Words of kindness
Words of anger
Words of every kind
They carry us off to sleep
And perhaps temper
And shape our dreams
Words said in caring
The most soothing
it seems
In anger or sadness
In calm and in madness
Words in our minds, we’ll find
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poem by David Whalen
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Soft Murmuring Sound
Soft murmuring sound
A soft murmuring sound,
From a deep hidden place
Perpetual pulsing
Never stopping to rest
Never given to pause
Oft-time given to race
This most sensual organ
Enclosed in sanguine breast
Tis truth, it can shatter
Yet remain tearfully intact
burst with pride and affection
And in anger react
Able to flutter
Able to ache
Able to pine
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poem by David Whalen
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Quiet Focus Of The Mind
The Quiet focus of the mind
Is From whence imaginations rise
Imagination of starlit creation
Stimulation to open up one’s eyes
The quiet focus of the mind
To garner truth, cast out the lies
If Intimidation begets frustration
Then Frustration leads to what’s and why’s
Well… the quiet focus of the mind
Will turn what’s and why’s to quiet sighs
Plain and simple contemplation
Levels out, life’s lows and highs
And the quiet focus of the mind
Will lift the spirit to the skies
poem by David Whalen
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Puzzling
Calendar with days marked off…
Final day checked…
in blood-red ink marker mean
Then… no more marks…of any sort
The calendar antiseptically… cryptically clean…
Time seemingly now, no longer of import
What was coming, so anticipated…(Or dreaded) …
That the days after… the anointed day
Seemed of no consequence imbedded
Calendar yellowed and tattered
As if time no longer existed…
To a person… like you or me
And to whom days… no longer mattered
Then…Now…and for eternity
poem by David Whalen
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She Doesn't live here anymore
Icy fingers on every heart
Chill breezes through the willows
Lips clench tight when we’re apart
Satin sheets neath silken pillows
Empty hearts, open doors
Shadow dancers upon the walls
She doesn’t live here anymore
Sigh of breezes, through empty halls
Tattered papers, tarnished rings
Bittersweet memories, troubled mind
Discarded emotions, long lost things
Too many whiskies, sweet cherry wine
Time without reasons
Today into tomorrow
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poem by David Whalen
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Lovely Illusions
Confidence, …‘shrinks’ tell us
is only an illusion
Reflecting only, the facts and feeling
At, and of, a particular time
Sounds a lot like the illusion of love, to me
Akin to the mental images
we conjure up in our minds,
and ascribe to a state so sublime
Whether tis fact or illusion,
I shall avoid the confusion
By having complete confidence
and seeking seclusion
In my lovely, misty world,
so unreal yet appealing
My sphere of fictitious fact and feeling
Of beguiling illusion and rhyme
poem by David Whalen
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Of Things Missed
So many, the people
With clear cold command
Of the language
And fully utilized by them
in daily discourse
And yet know little, or not…
Of the texture and design
In the weave of the words, and
Know or suffer not
A whit or hint of remorse
Of the richness of
The pleasures inherent
Tho' obviously to most,
not apparent
In the daily, depths
Of Deep discourse
The wealth of treasure
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poem by David Whalen
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Ask Your Dog 'What Time Is It'?
If you could ask a dog
“What time is it? ”…
You most likely
Would just hear a howl
A bark, a snuffle
A snort or a sniff
A whimper, a whine
Or a growl
But that’s not what I hear
And that’s not his reply
When I ask my dog
“What does the clock say? ”
I know by the look
That I see In his eye
That the answer is
“It’s time to play! ”
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poem by David Whalen
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Ode to the color blue
There’s ever so much more to blue
Than just a color
It’s as much an emotion
As it is a hue
Blue is the tender soul
Of sky, flower and ocean
And the blessing and bane
Of me and you
Dye of desperation
Paint of despair
Wistful wash of wisdom
And the pale shade of prayer
A name for a pet
A descriptor of sea
Four letter word…Tho’
The best one that could be
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poem by David Whalen
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