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Poems by Donovan Holtz

My poetry is sad-
Of regrets-
I love life, beauty,
And laughter-
Why doesn't it come
Out in my poetry?
Is my humor like
The crust of the earth
From which the
Fire of despair oozes
Covering humor with
Hardened lava through which
A tree takes hundreds
Of years to grow?

I don't know what my
Father looked like on the
Last day of his life
And I haven't wondered
Until now-
We didn't know each
Other before-
He couldn't hear me
Because of his deafness-
He couldn't hear me cry
When he punished me-
Could he feel it?
What would we say to
Each other now?
Would we look at each
Other not knowing
How to speak or how
To hear?
Do I not hear because
Of him?

In the dark outside the window
The ocean roars and pounds
Against the cliffs-
I see only my reflection
Staring back-
Joys and discoveries of
Youth are gone
Life stretches ahead
A barren landscape-
I should plant some trees.

I was passing, not looking
Suddenly there they were
Stopping by for an instant
Street clothes warm against
The air
In the grove of headstones
A freshened place
The casket came from the
Back of a pickup truck
Fancy boxes, stretch limos,
And hearses
It doesn't matter
When you die you're dead
Only your loved ones
See the empty bed.

What is life?
Why do we hold
On so tightly?
What is heaven?
I like the thought
That when the lights
Go out
It remains dark.

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Biographical sketch: I have been retired from the police service for the pat 21 years. I paint, sculpt, act, direct, and write. I am 67 years old.

Donovan Holtz recommends:

What Matters Most is How Well You Walk Through the Fire by Charles Bukowski
Reason: It is honest, direct, and not pretentious.

Recommendations for writers:

Write from the heart.

Everything about: