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I love words. Like birds, I free them to fly; I love, Dovelike, to haiku. --by PoetWithCancer (M.L.P.) aka Mr. Poet Written on Sunday, November 22, 2009 12:53 pm PST Fair. Mostly sunny. 69° F. (Feels like 69° F.) … Read More »
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I have been dashing through my life, Even when it seemed that time was going slow. Time never really goes slow, but always runs. Every moment quicky comes and quickly must go; And every moment comes to life but once. And all the days, like the sun playing tag with the moon, Start with a sunrise, and… Read More »
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Sight. I can see the fallen, and the sparse tree-clinging, golden brown leaves. I can see the orange and gold light-fretted clouds of another sunset. I hope to see the bouquet of beams of many another sunrise. I look up at the sky at night; and then the sight of the… Read More »
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The man without a country Was a sad case to read. It made my soul weep. It made my heart bleed. He could not set foot on the land that he loved. He felt so lonely and so lost. He had said a few words that somehow offended someone; He had spoken freely; but at such a cost. Now into immense suffering… Read More »
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Your love expression sounds like First Love to me, or very near it. If not, then you have surely saved in your heart First Love's high quality. From your words, which you wrote about your special guy, I feel True Love's true spirit. In spite of my future pain and all my present grief… Read More »
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Cancer lets you feel great, At the beginning of your fate. It lets you walk in the sunshine, And feel the light of life on your skin. It lets you see and love the light. It even lets you enjoy eating, with a hearty appetite—…
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It is so sad. Even dogs can get cancer. I’m hearing now about a happy, loving dog That has been diagnosed with malignant tumors. Just as in the case of people, especially children,…
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(Written after a rare desert snowfall, during which I received my diagnosis) The day that I was given my great fear, By being told what no one wants to hear, I…
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Through my night-time open window steals The soft and cool light of the bright sun-reflecting moon. Light glides across the bedroom floor; and slowly climbs the bedspread. Then it inches its mystic way, from one side of the bed to the other. As I watch the moonlight move, my heart--that so often…
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The image of a mother breast-feeding her baby daughter or son, Cherishing her infant with motherly love, And nourishing from her own body the babe that she bore-- Fathered by her compainion in love and life-- Is of all visions I have ever seen, the most sacred one. This is what we are really here…
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