Poetry
I Dance
Do not be fooled when I dance Born to survive I dance Born to resist I dance To feed on memories of conversations, moments lined
Do not be fooled when I dance Born to survive I dance Born to resist I dance To feed on memories of conversations, moments lined
For years, we smelled smoke. The facade was on fire, still measurements went un-taken. Flames carelessly set by those who ignited lives as if humans
When the sun doesn’t shine And dreams are no longer mine When hopes run out And volcanoes no longer shout When all the oceans
For myself and perhaps for some others it is all about watching, no, admiring the crystalline examples of intelligence found at times in the shade
Fog horns sound though air soaked in blackness. All evening long listening to hiss of trucks, cars. Shadows brush across walls as trees
The sole meaning of life is to serve humanity. ― Leo Tolstoy We live here. In this city. A Godforsaken one. We live
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,
We all ran the corridors together to make sure we were always ahead of the headmaster. If one did get caught, we all took the
Sure, I screwed up somewhere along the line. But at least I held onto this guitar, even if I can’t afford new strings. And I
Dear Brother, Some may say it is unwise of me to write a letter to you when you are somewhere this letter cannot reach, but
Another night scratching my head as I reach for a pencil. Another night spent torturing words in the mind’s muddied trenches, proving that yes you
They don’t know who I am, not like they used to think Before it all came apart Maybe I’ve changed Maybe I’ve sunk a
I always have a dream Flowing into my veins like a stream Throughout my life I wander about Having deep faith to reach it, no
Poetry is written in the human mind, and is read by the human conscience. They comprise the metaphysical parallel universe lingering within us all. In
Somewhere in random conversations people throw words like ‘she has a way with words’. Subtly I’d like to think I have a way with words,
I write, More than I speak. I carry my words In feathers. They’re silver lined Like the moon. I touch them with a Light hand.
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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