POEMS OR MUSINGS

 A lady I hardly knew said
 she thought I was quite a poet
 I thanked her but suggested that she 
 should change my title to that of a muse
  
 I write about things close to my heart
 The human condition and such
 Things we have no control over and
 things, if willing, we can have an effect on
  
 I write about broken hearts
 My own, usually, when I witness
 scenes of sadness or unnecessary evil
 by those seeking power and control over others
  
 I feel and write about those who
 have lost love ones, never having the 
 chance again to say, “I love you” or
 “I’m sorry” or just to ask a question 
  
 I feel for those who are ill and confused by drugs
 and this confusion becomes their truth on which
 they make life altering decisions without 
 regard to the feelings of others  
 They are good at getting affirmation,
 so feel content in their delirium 
  
 I listen to petty complaints and write about
 the Nomads and refugees, who are cold, hungry and
 thirsty; existing with little hope; 
 many dying, making our small problems seem like luxury
  
 This is the stuff of my musings
 I can write about fireflies, moon rises, sunsets and glory
 But in the end what really has meaning?
  
 Stanski
 January 4, 2019 ^