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The poetry posted is all original work of Thomas Vander Wal. Most of it is part of a colletion of more than 100 pieces were written from 1995 to 1997. Nearly all of the works were posted on Compuserve's Poetry Cafe at one point or another. A wiped out backup tape and a hard drive crash have me re-entering the poems in digital format. I am not vouching for the quality of the items only the words that are collected are made from dreams, wishes, and observations of life.
A Child Can
See the world through a child's eyes
and set the world alight. See the world through a child's eyes and have no fears, but for the night. The child lives in the world of adventures, through and through. The child lives in a world of adventures, all new, all new. See the world through a child's eyes and live in a world of what will and what might. June 24, 1995 Body Bag
In the doorway of the church
on a cold foggy evening a sleeping bag to be a body bag for a street man down and out. His belongings few and simple all held within a satchel. The distorted memories of a hated war and no class life are all but forgotten. The stench that precedes him as he holds out his cup over powers his smile and the once sweet blue eyes. The clothes are torn and tattered, much from the previous wearer. His stomach is warmed at noon from the gift of a church, truly doing their work. His skin covered with soil, dried on and decaying. Living long enough, he is promised, he will inherit the earth. Each day he wakes thinking, "no not again." Another day with friends, they all play crows stealing belongings of value, only to him. His day perks up with the slightest response from a person denying change. If only they knew he really wants to change their lives for his. A few quarters are a blessing, a bottle they might buy, not to get drunk, but as an anesthetic to kill the pain buried deep inside. From day into the night to find shelter to save his life. Will it be an alleyway, a doorway, or a refuge warm and caring. This night it is a doorway of a church with a pointing light to guide his vessel to the morning if he could steer from the strife. A body bag zipped? No, not yet. September 2, 1995 Breakfast
Wrinkled white tee shirt
resting on your curves. Faded hole-worn blue jeans, once mine, slouched in your chair. An adjustable baseball hat with your hair through the gap. Bare feet resting on my legs jiggling the bottom of the paper. Your brilliant playful eyes peering over the coffee cup lip. Warm morning jasmine breezes flowing through Saturday's ease. I gently touch your cheek only asking, "Breakfast?" February 29, 1996 Green Awnings
On a sunny late February day
I witnessed a dandelion's face watch a green awning being unfurled to ward off the sun. It was the first awning of Spring and laying in the grass at your side I could hear your hums of pleasure in my ear as you woke from a sweatered nap. Looking into your dream filled eyes I could see a warm future was definitely in store and a harsh Winter gone forever. January 23, 1996 Shoelaces
I sit on the front stoop. My mom said not to walk outside in stocking feet. I had to try this. Let me see, the indent is in the middle of this shoe, that makes it a left. The other must be the right, size two made just for me and my size feet. Not to tie them will be bliss Lift the tongue put my foot in, whoops that is left on the right foot I'll try it over here. Good, that worked. Now the other one. That was easy. Now grab the laces and rub the hands together. Whoops that was a miss. I have seen dad do this many times. One lace in each hand and bring them together and smush and rub. NO, not again. MOM!!! I need help I yelled. So she ran and found me on the porch with my shoelaces undone. With a pull and a rub they were done with a kiss. September 18, 1995 Young Swan Choreorgraphy
His first job was choreographing white swans in the lake. By raising his hands then running with a bounce directly toward them. The white swans would flutter, scatter, spin, and whirl in a ballet lead by the little boy, who was also playing the male lead at the age of a prodigy. September 15, 1995 Send comments to the Webmaster
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