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Thomas Goodrich

of

New York, NY, US

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the mirror

by

Thomas Goodrich

twinkle
sun gods and rosebuds
honor thyself
of omnipotent existence she said
and gather this love of flowers
to give to the free
carefully placing each petal
beneath an heart of gold

and when all is done
gather yourself to you
these many faces will disappear
as you look in the mirror
and see god


view from my window

by

Thomas Goodrich

i look down upon the frames of many souls
and see the tattered roofs of their sheltered homes
water towers lunge to the sky in an obvious attempt to fly to the moon
and at night
the frames come to life
animated souls within squirm and giggle
and contemplate life in other spheres
like puppets in a show

i view them unemotionally as their worlds spin by

yet
my only regret
is that i cannot control the strings to the puppets i see
and help them untangle the knots binding them

but i must remember
these puppets framed by little peep-holes to their worlds
are
after all
souls in the play of the universe
and i am barely worthy of knotting my own strings
others desire to untangle


gentle me peace

by

Thomas Goodrich

gentle me peace
opening doors of serenity
fickle frozen in wondrous worlds and just causes
shall we awaken with countless new sensations
grown full and ripe to entice recent days
or shall we be young and ignorant to bliss
the crescent moon escapes not this earths shadow

voices call in the distance
families before us beckon to heart
sending abounding emotion from distant memory
to capture almost uncapturable thoughts

a flash
in mind
of some forgotten place and time
and forever more shall we roam
questing the quest
kissing the tomorrow's dew wet face of happiness