Poetry
Wind’s War
A blustery day of early Fall, a war ‘between wind and trees The broganned breeze trumps boldly into strip the mottled leaves Its icy fingers
A blustery day of early Fall, a war ‘between wind and trees The broganned breeze trumps boldly into strip the mottled leaves Its icy fingers
I have examined the night sky. Seen appear the moon, stars, and meteors. During winter’s freeze, Orion, lost in Crete, stands tall, his belt tight,
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Until you let go of what hurts you,
screaming won’t ease the pain.
The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories
The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of
I’m skilled at bottling up my feelings but I’ll burst if you shake me. one pull at a loose thread and I come apart at