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.
Subscribe to our newsletter for the latest updates, exclusive content, and exciting events.
Raindrops Love is in the silver drops liquid paradise fresh invigorating slice water heals our spirit revives our magician inside! writing and typing side by
Gypsy of flowers The winds carry many showers, flowers of petal towers swaying with life’s handshakes, writing in meadows with light shades. Curtains of sunlight
Spring’s Water My love for spring the flowers sing my heart aches for petals to love to see the blue sky and the soft birds
The season is relaxing washing in on ocean waves the sand captures tender land escapes drapes of quiet look rest is special test captivates our