We Have a Kinship

We Have a Kinship

We Have a Kinship

We have a kinship,

both having survived. 

You, perhaps have survived

WWII, or the Korean scuffle. 

I survived childhood polio,

and other ailments 

and breaks, and scratches

and stuff. 

We survived school, math, 

sentence diagraming,

sometimes boring history classes,

and shop class. 

We have a kinship, 

for we have survived. 

I've survived heart surgery, 

a broken arm, dropped drum sticks,

and jobs that were good,

or great, or disappointing. 

And you have survived your

messes and mix-ups, 

successes and falls. 

We are survivors, if of nothing

but a sometimes mundane

and satisfying life. 

And our friendship, 

our kinship is intact. 

You are blocks away, 

or perhaps thousands of miles further,

and we are kin.  

We share life's experiences and 

we survive.

Welcome to the club.

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

I Know Where I'm Going

I Know Where I’m Going

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

I know where I’m going.

You are welcome to tag along

if you like.

Know this …

I wanna be what I wanna be,

not what you want

me to be.

If you can handle that,

then let’s go on some adventures.

If not, then we shall agree

to disagree in an agreeable fashion.

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

And God Moved

And God Moved

© 2020 by P Michael Biggs

I was born 71 years ago,

and God has moved

in my life ever since.

I broke my arm at nine,

and God moved.

I got my first job

at Redford’s Five & Dime

and God moved.

I lived my dream of

soloing with my

high school band,

and God moved.

The longed-for day came

when I went off to college,

and God moved.

I graduated on time,

and God moved.

My first job came along

in Orlando,

and God moved.

Then came Albuquerque,

Seattle, South Carolina,

Indiana, Texas,

and back to Seattle,

and God moved.

I’ve had incredible highs

in my careers,

and painful lows.

and through it all

God moved.

I’ve come through

Kennedy’s assassination,

the MLK marches,

the pros and cons

of Vietnam,

I endured Watergate,

Clinton’s lies,

the devastation of 911

and God moved.

Even today, with rioting,

burning of cities,

destruction of property,

anger and frustration,

I see God still moves.

Somehow, I believe

He is still around,

still watching,

still making cause and effect

in subtle ways.

Our woes and joys

are not at an end.

We are, perhaps,

not even at the

beginning of the end.

Maybe we are

at the end of

of the beginning.

This I know.

God is moving.

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

Roses in January

Roses in January

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

We went to Hawaii in September.

I’m remembering those times in January.

I got my dream bicycle when I was nine.

I remember it 61 years later in January.

I’ve met and rubbed elbows

with a few ‘heroes’ of mine

down through the years.

Three of them are gone now,

But I remember them today, in January.

Their essence, their kindness,

their patience and words

have stayed with me all these years.

I’m having roses as if freshly picked

simply because I have memories

of days and times and people

of yesterday.

Memories are, indeed

roses on a cold January evening.

A Time for Rhyme Poem Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs

Why Writers Write

Why Writers Write

© 2019 by P Michael Biggs

I am a writer,

therefore, I write.

Whether I am a great writer,

or just a pretty good writer

matters not.

I shall write till the day I die.

You see, life is happening to me.

I’m having experiences,

I have memories.

I know things about things,

and I know people.

For me, writing is learning,

and reliving, and experimenting,

and good for my heart.

Writing is also inspirational.

Most of the time, I’ll read out loud

something I’ve just written.

I hear my voice, my inflections,

my emotions, telling me

what I already know.

I sometimes marvel at what I write.

I marvel because sometimes,

I’ve had stupid experiences,

I’ve said dumb things.

I’ve thought incorrectly,

I’ve expressed outlandish phrases.

I marvel at my lacks … and smile.

You see, I learn from these

mutual imperfections.

And I marvel when a tiny seed

of astounding truth and beauty

sneaks from my fingers onto this

Mac computer thing.

I marvel that my mind

just put that string together

and it is a good thing I created.

Writing gives me hope.

I’ve come to understand

my greatest power in writing.

It is my power to choose.

And I can make some darn good choices.

And so, I write,

and you read,

and our minds touch

at odd moments

along the way.

I shall continue to write

for both of us.

A Time for Rhyme Blog Site

Originals by P Michael Biggs