To hear these sounds my gentle friend
Takes courage, strength and mirth
As Budda sat and laughed and laughed
When his pain became mankind's.

Found dancing in tight, sweaty triangles,
In all the ancient well-known ways,
The mushrooms are rutting,
In many of life's darker, damper places.

Take out thy dreadful blue pencil and strike!
Let loose its savage cutting edge
And we'll not shed a single tear
For that battered pile of pulp
Once laughingly called a manuscript.

Humanity is a Rope

Stretched between two extremes

One end holds mortal flesh

The other, immortal spirit

Far below. . .the abyss waits darkly

To cross or not to cross?

That is the question

But balance is everything

When one walks the razors edge

Copyright © 2000

Shifting sands of time devour
Lifetimes come and go
Sweet love missed
Opportunities lost

By Wynne Bruce

In one moment of rapture,
I was moved from
The ordinary of myself
To a being of
Otherness:

By Wynne Bruce

High on bleak, stony crag,
Unmoving, he sits astride
His ragged coated pony.

By Wynne Bruce

I walked on golden sand
Beneath a hyacinth blue sky
The warm turquoise ocean
Lapped my feet gently
Yet, I only thought of you.

By Wynne Bruce

I remember, I remember
When first you came to me,
The mischief times
The puppy times
The times that used to be.

By Wynne Bruce

You, but see the glory of the rose

And know its petalled fragrance;

You, cannot see the reality

Or know the hidden beauty

That lives within its golden heart.

To you, its just a flower,

A pleasure to see, then you pass;

But there, in that one perfect flower,

The whole of creation is held,

And there, He lives, and waits, and hopes....

Copyright © 1975