Sendings
By Shirley Segev
© Shirley Segev
Permission is given hereby to all who want to use these poems personally for their enjoyment and/or share them freely with others: verbally, in writing, online, or otherwise, by copying them without making any changes, and as long as they do not receive any payment in return.
Contact: shirley.segev@sympatico.ca
What I want
What I want is to make sure
that I remember to
breathe in and out.
It's necessary.
I stop breathing, it seems,
for minutes
and sometimes
for hours and days,
and years at a time
(I was busy out there),
I wonder how
I seem to go on
somehow,
without.
Is holiness in the exalted heavens
Is holiness in the exalted
heavens,
vast sacred spaces above,
or at least
in the dazzling awesome jewels
of bedecked old men
or is it in the everyday
little peapods, blades of grass,
worms and spoons,
as some say.
With all due respect
I suspect
it can't be both.
Personally I prefer the theory
of everywhere
except it takes me nowhere.
Tomorrow They'll Come
Tomorrow they'll come for
dinner,
goodwill will abound,
but what will they remember
most of all,
the courses,
the talk,
the art on the wall?
when they're gone
and the dishes are done,
and the clock will have
called the hour,
will their bellies and hearts
remember what,
the savoury, the sweet, or
the sour?