Inner Peace By Jean M. Porro

A look, a stare, a memory,

It’s captured in the mind,

For what we thought was long forgotten,

Is only stored in time.


What we do with memories,

That could make us lose control,

Is to bury them so deeply,

In the corners of our souls.


If we could take sad memories,

And face them as we grow,

There’d be less guilt and less distress,

And an inner peace that flows.


Life By Jean M. Porro

Life is a harsh road to travel.

And even when the day is right,

Life can suddenly stop and unravel,

And lead you into the dark of night.

A promising Illusion

Of life understood,

But there is also the delusion,

That life can be perfect and good.

What does life demand of us?

It doesn’t take much

The Crumb-Maker By Jean M. Porro

There once was a little gent,

Who played the whole day long,

And when this little boy was done,

He placed his toys where they belonged.


I think this little gent you see,

Had some frightful scare,

Because when he ate a cookie,

The crumbs would cause him fear.


A cookie monster chasing him,

Or perhaps being chased by a raisin,

Whatever caused this boy a fright,

Has left him quite amazing.


Now, this boy has grown older,

And his life he keeps quite neat,

However, he can become compulsive,

If there are crumbs beneath his feet.


More recently this mature gent,

Has a home, where two sons dwell,

 And l have faith in this new father,

To teach his children well.


But, what this father doesn’t know,

Is that his sons could be,

Perhaps the biggest crumb-makers,

That he will ever see.


Now Dad should just remember,

So, his boys won’t think him dumb,

It’s not about the cookies, in life,

It’s what you do with the crumbs.

The Pine Tree By Jean M. Porro

I see the dancer from my window,

As it sways in gentle measure,

Keeping form in perfect rhythm,

While it moves in natural splendor.


With a crown of snowflakes,

And icy jewels upon its feet,

It dances to the tunes of winter,

And gracefully keeps the beat.


I am captured’ by this vision,

And delighted by the slight,

Of this pine tree as it dances,

In the wakening of first light.


Yet so quickly it grows tired,

By the swiftness of the snow,

I can see the body weaken,

As the winds begin to blow.


For the limbs that on moved easy,

Are now laden down and filled,

And the snow hurls round my dancer,

An its boughs are slowly stilled.


I feel a kindred spirit,

With this dancer in the field,

For I too have heard the music,

And Once danced with such a zeal.


But unlike me, whose rhythm,

Are more about the past,

This offspring from Mother Nature,

Is living for long last.


With exquisite beauty the tree,

Will surely move again,

And for me the splendor is in the watching,

As it dances in the wind.

Yesterday By Jean M. Porro

Today I wished for yesterday,

For the years I’ve missed along the pith,

The ones I’ve wasted on my way,

To arrive to where I am today.


Time rushes by so quickly,

And those moments just don’t last,

All I can see is the visions,

Caught by memories from my past.


My wedding day, my husband’s eyes,

The way he looked at me,

The first time he said I love you,

When we were sitting by the sea.


My children’s tiny faces,

Their littIe hands in mine,

Their smiles, their giggles,

All gone, forever lost in time.


Today I wished for yesterday,

With a sense of what I know,

That life just moves us forward,

With no other place to go.


Back then I was very busy,

Doing what I don’t even know,

Yet I wished I’d have taken more time,

And watched my family grow.


It doesn’t truly bother me that I have,

Reached this stage,

Except to see children,

Approaching their later age.


They rush through life as I once did,

While trying to find their way,

For life is but a circle,

When it bounds towards yesterday.