My latest poetry book with poems gleaned from a number of aspects of life. I call it, picking up the remnants. Here is one poem from Remnants.

REMNANTS

 

We are a trace of what was

A small part of what we were

A leftover from a life of abundance

A remnant of the past

 

We rose from the ashes of life

Smoldering until we could breathe

Advancing into full-fledged humans

Now we are a quantity

 

The best parts of us have been used

A fragment remains with flashbacks

Of memories, told and retold

Until the visions dissipate

 

So, what is left for the remnants

Tossed away in the garbage of life?

Hanging on and trying to be relevant

Or sitting in the sun to feel its power?

 

The likelihood of the matter

Will probably be one of choice

For many remnants with different views

I, for one, like the sun-to-power