I am an amateur writer, who loves to write poems.
I feel poetry is my only escape from reality. I love to play with the imagination a little and get Dark. We all have nightmares and fears
I just put mine to work in a beautifully written poem.
Well, sitting at the computer it is now 9:04 in the morning and my hands are hurting. Yes, my hands are so screwed up from mounting ovens together it sucks but the pay is good.
Growing up we lived in apartments until I was fourteen, my grandparents rented a house out to us. Still having to share a room with my brothers, but it was cool we had a house and grandpa left the basketball goal up for us.
Dear New Year, When 2020 came, I thought this was going to be the year for my family and I. We had just got two new cars, well new to us and moved in march. Quarantined hit, no- one is allowed to go to work until we get the go ahead. WHAT!
When you speak of your daughter, Nothing like me, like her father. No pride comes for your lips, Of the first that passed, between your hips.
In the mid October night, she awaited the pale moonlight. For her one true love, too come hold her oh so tight. For twenty-seven days her lips yearned for his sweet savory kiss.
Let me take you back to when I was a small child, a toddler in the 1980’s. My mother plays Poison, Annie Lennox, all the 1980’s Rock bands.
There is a disturbance that abides within. Feel it? At least see it in her eyes. The destruction that breaks forth brings more pain and tears.
Shh. Close those little eyes As I try to make sense of this life. Lonely and afraid Stress becomes a distraction. Something anything to ease the pain.