In the Mirror

In the mirror I see a man
I ask who is this man
But I know
I know this man very well
But I don’t
He is new to me
As he is every day
He changes
He never is the same
New thoughts change him
Old thoughts leave him
And change him
His heart is broken one day
And full the next
Or broken one hour
And full the next
There is always joy
A freedom I don’t see very often
I like this person
And I feel for him as well
Love has not escaped him
It’s there in his face
Laughter has also been a good friend
It too sits there
I never know who I will see
When I look in the mirror

copyright Don MacLeod


Get it Out

Writing a poem


is exactly


like taking a shit.


You’ll just be sitting there,


working or


watching TV,


reading, whatever,


and suddenly,


it takes you over.


It becomes


the most important thing.


It is urgent.


Get it out, or


face the consequences.




A door seldom opens in the late Tuesday clouds
Up here in the tower.

None of us have wings, for all our celestial perceptions.

I want to fall backwards out of this life
into the city.

I have a white bag filled with tissue paper.

I don’t mind leaving nothing behind.

Take me to the silver doors,
with one last look at my reflection,
I will escape clueless
into the alley,
befriended by a tortoiseshell cat.

I want to fall backwards out of this life.

There is a place that I will make waiting.
The sidewalk will crumble behind me.

I will no longer be the legs ascending the opera stairs
ahead of you, no longer the complacent shoulder.
No longer the pieces you think
you put together.

I have earned this small violence.


Copyright Kay Winter

No one must know

No one must know

So much pain

Tell no one

It’s a secret that must be kept

You don’t know why exactly

But you must remain silent

No one can know you can barely sit up some days

The pain saps every bit of extra energy

No one can know


No one can know

It’s a secret

Fake it


Do not tell the truth

Lie to yourself

It will get better

It will go away

You will find the magic thing

That makes you better

You hope

You pray

It doesn’t go away

It eats at you

It takes your life

It takes your friends

It takes the things you love to do

All go away

But you can’t tell

You must not tell

Copyright Don MacLeod