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 I will not write poems about things that fade nor will I visit the grave where my dreams are buried instead, I will sow the field where pie... [read more] |
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ideas bubbling, like a witch’s cauldron. [read more] |
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it gathers dust without anyone knowing closing the time. [read more] |
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I have known the scarcity of flowers, before they were discovered on Valentine’s Day; there were no roses but the image of him arranged on... [read more] |
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the moon in its celestial power, shatters the pulse of a white petal; the mist rose then lingered, diluted in fermented nectar, like anci... [read more] |
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his touch brings a moment of forever; a gentle heart thunders she longs to have him write words, like a poet in love, his eyes could only... [read more] |
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let me enjoy the days of my journey; taste the sweetness of the brilliant morn, when I dreamed of odysseys, climbed hills, lived in wildern... [read more] |
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I’m going to strip myself of all encumbrance learn to choose my words because words sound hollow, empty proclamations. I will renounce my... [read more] |
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morning crawls its way across fields emblazons in gold. [read more] |
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stretches of oil-like clouds hung beyond my window only half the moon. [read more] |
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one of the stars in Van Gogh’s dream a raging jewel as lucid as night. [read more] |
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She believes in rainbows, that kaleidoscope of bow-like colors; so she stands there watching, quivering in anticipation. Perhaps she’s pra... [read more] |
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if there’s a vision that is to dwell eternally in my dreams, it would be you. but not like this, concealed like a silhouette, not farther f... [read more] |
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I gathered the details of a sidewalk pass people moving in opposite directions scattered candy wrappers and cigarette butts the sculpture o... [read more] |
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As I sought the secret places of dreamlike existence, a man offered me his hand his eyes – moon or stars, I am smitten like a child. I bru... [read more] |