Why don’t we get it?

no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well

You Must Know Sorrow

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.

Housewares on Markdown at Sears

My grandmother puts her feet in the sink
of the bathroom at Sears
to wash them in the ritual washing for prayer,
wudu,
because she has to pray in the store or miss
the mandatory prayer time for Muslims
She does it with great poise, balancing
herself with one plump matronly arm
against the automated hot-air hand dryer,
after having removed her support knee-highs
and laid them aside, folded in thirds,
and given me her purse and her packages to hold
so she can accomplish this august ritual
and get back to the ritual of shopping for housewares

When The Bad Days Outweigh The Good

When you travel to Africa, North America, or Asia, and you walk away from the typical tourist attractions you will see people sing and laugh, and you will be surprised to notice that often the loudest laughter and the greatest joy comes from the poorest of the poor.

The Old Astronomer to His Pupil

Reach me down my Tycho Brahe, I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;
He may know the law of all things, yet be ignorant of how
We are working to completion, working on from then to now.

Ballad of Forgotten Places

My most beautiful hiding places,
places that best fit my soul’s deepest colors,
are made of all that others forgot.

Alexa! How Old Are You?

I never wanted an Alexa or a Siri, they come with our phones and with Amazon Fire TV, yet they have be shunned by us to live in silence, waiting forever to hear our voice allowing them to come to live, doomed to wait for whatever short-lived life they -and we- might have.

XXXIX

When summer’s end is nighing
  And skies at evening cloud,
I muse on change and fortune
  And all the feats I vowed
  When I was young and proud.

When Peace Is Unknown

Parvez Noori, 16 “War has affected our existence, our life, our culture. The war took away my childhood. I wish the war would end and more children could enjoy childhood and family life.”

In my life there is not much happiness due to fear.

Author, Writer, Poet or Blogger?

“Put down everything that comes into your head and then you’re a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff’s worth, without pity, and destroy most of it.”

(Casual Chance, 1964)”
― Colette

Author or writer, which is the right title? Is an author also a writer and if so, is a writer also an author? And in which category does a poet belong? And what about the blogger?