TEENAGE

While in it we wandered
Forgot our ways they wondered
Now in the light I ponder
Those days I messed were tender.

It baffles to see the younger
Teens in the things beffalling
The rate of it appalling
Why in the world we linger.

The poet's world is about
The sun's last Rev
We pray we don't prey
For the teen are all ours.

They are dragged in the  nakedness
Of streets
Their routes are dis-used
They try to cope as they sprout
Their voice is now deeper than bass

KIDS

Their eyes are light complexioned
As innocent as their names
They recognize the normal
And run from the mad.

I would have stepped in the modern gutter
Your shoulder wrestled me out
Into another ring where the kisses of your
Tender lips
Strangled me in the dark
I would have won
But my bed was wet
Waking up should have allowed me the prize.

The Poet's pottery

His diary is fat