Doors to other worlds

I suppose each of us creates our own world and surrounds it with a wall or fence and guards its entrance with a door or gate.

I see glimpses of these worlds in my neighborhood where things join imperfectly or have decayed in time.

They are slivers of private worlds seen in the space between wood warped by the seasons of years.

Imperfect pieces of a jigsaw picture of a person’s life.

Sometimes a door opens as I walk by and I see inside.

And I see them look and I wonder if they know that they are glimpsing my world.


I am Bassa

My good friend Rumpy at writes poetry, especially haiku (a short form of Japanese poetry). He often runs poetry competitions on his blog and encourages others to write. I mentioned this to the tall person and discovered that he too writes poetry but hasn’t written for some time. After some persuasion he agreed to share some of his poetry with me and there was one poem that I thought was relevant to all of us. Because I liked it he kindly agreed to adapt it by putting my name in it but if you like it you can put your name in it.

I am Bassa

I am Bassa,

There is only one of

I am the sum of

And everyone,

Of every moment in
my life

And every moment yet
to come.

Each day I change

In some small way

And I accept that
things will change

And I will never be

I know that clouds
give way

To sunshine.

I know that pain
will pass.

I know that love
will change me

And will guide me

To my destiny.

I am Bassa,

There is only one of

I am on a journey

That will change me.

I will walk with
those who care

And leave behind the

I will choose what I
take with me.

I will never be

I know that love
sustains me

And I will never be

I know that love
will hold my hand

And bring me safely

I am Bassa,

There is only one of