Monday, March 09, 2015

Eight days,
Eight weeks,
Eight months,
Eight years,
I keep waiting for it to get easier

It hasn’t

I wait
For the numbness
To give way

I wait
For the full weight
Of the loss

I wait
For the hurting
To pass to the side

I wait
For the good memories
To push the pain away

You have been gone
Eight years, Dad

I keep waiting for it to get easier

It hasn’t.

Ron Simpson, Jr.
March 8, 2015

Sunday, March 01, 2015

Word Play

Hard to

This is a
Poem that doesn't
Say much of
Anything except to
Be hard to 
Read because it
Doesn't follow the
Used structure of

It breaks at
All the wrong 
Places and
Therefore interrupts
The readers
Flow of

This forces
The reader to
Search for the
Meaning of the 
Words so
Written and

Perhaps this is
Not such a bad
Thing if it
Causes us to
Step outside and
See what is being
Said and not 
Assuming we 
Already know what
The writer is

Maybe we 
Need to listen this
Way as well

Ron Simpson
March 8, 2014