This poem is a memory
This poem is about/a place I use to call my home;
a place where this new silence I see was once the laughter
of hope and pride. A place...
One April Morning (The 36th Song)
Written April 27th, 2012 10:31 A.M.
A howling wind regurgitates through the reflection
of soft sunlight that is peeking through...
I’ve been sitting here singing now for thirty-five years/
listening to the music of my heart whistle through laughter, pain,
happiness and tears. So as I...
To Live Again
To progress one has to remember to live.
One night I sat alone listening to my past pain
unhealed whining against the coldness
of yesterday’s...
Written April 27th 2009
Thirty-three years ago I had no name, no dreams
no emotion — they say I was just a ten pound bundle of joy
pushing my way out of a...
Written April 27th 2008
To be born again is to release yesterday’s fears
and rise from the recycled shell we call existence;
it is the freedom to capture...
Her heart was a tourist searching exploring a new destination for that something once familiar.
She was lost in a silent crowd with the identity
of heartbreak...
Sidewalks: the clutter of movements simplified on pavements
of time where strangers become familiar
stories and friendly smiles become hidden identities
behind...
There are times I stare out into the openness
of a quiet world
watching my reflection cry.
Sometimes I don’t feel my feelings are heard;
sometimes I watch...
