It's Not What I Lack
Why am I not her? Is it because her skin is lighter And more appealing? Her eyes brighter, and filled With something mine don’t have?
My writing is my home
My writing is my home. Sometimes it's warm and cozy like a lover's bed. Another time, a dizzy rabbit hole. I write about feelings,
In the Darkness of Night
My father fought in World War II. He was seriously injured during a major battle in the South Pacific. A grenade landed in his foxhole killing his best friend and filling him with shrapnel. He very rarely spoke of his wartime experience, but in the evenings, when we would be sitting quietly you could feel the burden was still with him. During the night he would often have the same nightmare, you could hear him fighting that battle, always waking up with the grenade landing in the foxhole. Growing up I heard that nightmare hundreds of times.
Simba The Sun
Once upon a time there lived a fascinating girl. She is present, kind, and adventurous. She grew up in a very small town,
Down the Rabbit Hole
When you feel like you're falling Down the rabbit hole The thoughts may be pacing The past woes had taken a toll 🐰 You dream as the wind rushes past
Stories: A Sestina
The weight of it in my hands The feel of it beneath my fingertips The quiet smell of it drifts through the air The words begin melting away
filing for a divorce
officially filing for a divorce no more feeling remorse because i am finally parting ways with any negative thoughts my best friend depression it is finally time to say goodbye
Lady of the Water
Colleen Millsteed shared a poem called “No More Me” which was subtitled “It’s Game , Set and Match To You” which reminded me of the title of a Nic Jones album. Nic Jones’ masterpiece is “Penguin Eggs” which contains the seafaring lady tale “Canadee-I-O” which has one of the most beautiful guitar intros ever, which got me to thinking about writing a maritime based tribute to my beautiful Muse.
Only the Classics
The roots from which poetry as we know it has flourished. Taking you back to the classical era, one stanza at a time.
Life as a Poet Knows It
Industry tips for new poets. Welcome to the Poets family.
America in Verse
One Nation, United by Poetry. Exploring the United States of America through word.
We Will Remember Them
With Love We Remember If you represent Bureaucracy, then allow me to uncomplicate things for you. If you represent Democracy, then my opinion doesn’t matter to you.
What can wash away my sins? Nothing but the blood of Jesus. That is the story of my youth. What can make me whole again?
Home is a dream
Home is the heart of the soul. It is the echo of laughter from childhood, it is a time capsule of familiar smiles. Home is a constant comfort to the soul, it’s the smell that invades your senses like no other dwelling. It’s walls contain every emotion that you could express...joy, sadness, and happiness! Home is a dream, a place of rest, a place to live your life how you see best! It is a safe haven when life puts you to the test, it is a well of Feeling blessed. Home is the lighthouse on the shore that lights your path forevermore.
As I laid on my bed I stared up at the ceiling, I stared, yet my eyes saw beyond its borders, I was looking at the Stars with a hunger feeling.
The sparkle in your eyes reflects into my heart I surrender you this love even while we are apart The glistening flows through as it surges through my soul
Walk me home
Some days I wake up checking outta hotels and I don’t even know what state im in Home never compares to the smile you took from my face
Going Nowhere , But Home
This is a collaboration between Samantha Ciccone and Mike Singleton , from a concept that came from a chat . We were talking traffic and Samantha said she would love to drive anywhere / nowhere but somehow end up at home. I've used "Going Home:Wild Theme" from "Local Hero" by Mark Knopfler as the lead in music, as for me it fits.
Memories of the past
This poem was written for anyone, including myself, who has a chronic pain condition. It can be challenging when your body is no longer the same and accepting that fact is difficult–especially when you feel that you are missing out on some aspects of life. The pandemic has not made this any easier. This is for all of us who suffer, sometimes in silence.
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