Poetry By Denny Sternberg from Sacramento, California e-mail: c/o quikwords@aol.com     KINDRED SPIRIT Never put any of your senses on hold. Be aware all the time of what you feel and if I appear presumptious and bold, denying is never the way to heal. So, let it all out, the laughter and tears. You alone know what life is about, so, face and then dismiss your fears. You will if you look, find a kindred soul. Don't bury yourself in your home or in a book but rise proudly out of that lonely, sad hole.     You can count on me to always love you. As of now, no one loves you as I do. You can count on me to show anger, to fight but no one loves you as I, with all my might. You can count on me to love you as you grow old and gray. No one loves you as I do, every single day! You can count on me to criticize, to praise. No one loves you as I do FOREVER in so many ways.     I wonder at the wonder of US. In awe at the deepness of our love. You are my wholeness. I marvel at how you fill the voids. Amazed at your ability to put the pieces together. You are my love! Moved by your high values. Surprised at how you balance the ups and downs. You are my wholeness! With precisely the right amount of words, looks, deeds, you display your feelings. You are my love!     Love is kindled by a look, a word. Love is like an endless road. You can soar like a bird but carry a heavy load until you learn by taking AND giving. Be aware of and attentive to your feelings. All essential to loving loving. Love can be extinguished by a word, a look. Love is hard work, not what you see on TV or read in a book.     A street without people a city without noise a house without walls and a park without trees. A playground without swings a gallery without pictures a suburb without dogs and a theatre without a show. A meadow without grass a school without children a sky without stars that's ME without YOU! Empty and unwhole is what it would be.     Feel a need to connect with someone from my past who knew me as I was and not as I am. I have been defeated by life, so, the change in me is not only outside but inside. My heart is tired from loving from giving from hurting from being honest from not accepting from being ME from feeling separate. My heart is tired.     The mornings are for those who glow but midnite is for those who know that dark has mystery but no pretenses. With the day the secrets are behind fences. Though the world is at pause at nite, it's without the disorder of lite.     Memories are forever. They come and go as in dreams. The pleasant ones seem better in retrospect. The sad ones lose impact, with time, it seems. Memories are forever. They drift in and out, like the tide. The happy ones you hope to repeat. Mysteriously, the sad ones subside. Memories are forever. Soothing if feeling lonely or blue but don't dip too deeply into them or you will not fully enjoy the shiney new. Memories are forever. No one can take them away. Gather them up, use them to learn from. Memories are born every day. Memories are forever. Cherished by all who share them with you or they can be your special secret alone to change the emphasis, do with them as you wish to do.     Humor is the chocolate chip in a cookie. It brings out laughter. Humor is the fuzz on a tennis ball. It turns a frown into a smile. Humor is the fizz in a soda bubbling to the top. It should not be suppressed. Humor can relieve anxiety. It shines in the darkness.     There is a mystery surrounding poetry. Hidden meanings only known to the poet. Some poems are obvious, some obscure but poems lure you to read on and discover your own secrets.     The WORDS rapidly enter, then leave for awhile. The WORDS join with thoughts in a mixed up style. The WORDS form into sentences but meanings unclear, then merge with emotions and more confusion I fear. Some WORDS are weak, some forceful. All come from deep within a soul. To put them together, to make others feel is definitely a writer's goal. The WORDS keep coming and suddenly -- usually at a very late or early hour. They flow, they fuse, they have significance. WORDS have a potent power.     What drains energy from the present? Languishing in the past they say. What stunts the growth process? Wallowing in thoughts of yesterday.     Is that tear within my reach to dry? Can I make a person smile and stop a baby cry? Is that hurt within my reach to quell? Can I help reverse a person's living hell?     I don't wanta be a shadow in people' minds a memory a past tense a has been I don't wanta be a retrospective in loved ones' thoughts a was a dream a yesterday But when the inevitable arrives I wanta be forgotten unless recollections of me evoke laughter smiles joy     To all parents who teach their young to fly: It takes LOVE to let go. It takes courage to teach the young to fly. It takes a good self image, inner resources to fill your own needs with other than your children.     A good reason to write down your feelings is to avoid telling them to others. Cuz no one's really interested 'cept best friends and Mothers.     I have sacrificed NOTHING to be a Mother. It's a profession devalued but one that enriched all the living, growing, creative parts of my being. It was my responsible choice and privilege.     Top | Back to Collected Poems | Back to Main Page