More poems
by Richard Schnap



No Less a Life


When the skin you wear
Withers as if
It’s an enemy conspiring
Your doom


And the bones that once
Seemed forged of steel
Now bend with a heavy


And the face you see
In the tarnished glass
Looks back with a sad


Take heart in the fact
That the soul you bear
Is a candle no wind
Can kill



a black line


Child of Nature


She rides her bike

To the house of flowers

Where she knows every bloom

By its name


As if each one

Is an old dear friend

Whose story is rooted

In her heart


Then leaves at night

To return to the room

Where she dines alone with

Her shadow


Wondering when

Her bed might become

A garden of brilliant

Red roses



a black line


Notes on the Music of Humanity


Some people

Are like pianos

It takes a special touch

To keep them in tune


And some people

Are like guitars

When they’re stroked too hard

Their strings will break


And some people

Are like saxophones

They are given no place

In the realm of symphonies


And some people

Are like drums

That will only speak

Under the force of blows



a black line

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