By the Light of Candles
The wicks of candles but wither away
The fire crumbles and falls today
The wax drips downward, moonlit clay
But when the wax is a congealed pool
And the flame has gone to glowing jewels
Where the the ashes lay?
Hallucinations
I grit my teeth but want to scream
When she tells me that my many a dream
Are just foolish hallucinations
Yet I know and shake with my anticipations
Of greatness and ambitions
Of belief and glorious premonitions
The only thing that keeps me from
Accomplishing glory is my rule of thumb:
Never run it by her
Or else there will be a blur
Of put-downs and turn-aways and insults, too
Such as, you’ll never do XYZ with your ideas all askew
But would it be such a shame to admit
That the ‘she’ is me, always telling myself to quit?
— Ellen Cohn
There's a place up there
A puzzling concept in itself
Above the sky, above the air
Buried behind stuff, the back of the shelf
And however well or unwell we fare
It's a daydream we all share
And something we can't see
So until embers fall from the mantelshelf
We'll just have to let it be
Just sit back and believe.