Poetry To me Is none of that Pretentious tripe The fancy writers Use to describe Their chosen art form "The crying of the soul" "The words the heart speaks When the lips can't open" "A pain so intense That tears become words" Poetry To me Is just words That I'm too… Continue reading What Is Poetry?
"What rhymes with coffee?" The only word that I can think of Would be toffee Maybe one or two near rhymes But they're all a little off key They'd have a better chance of working Spoken softly But I'll try to think of more When I'm a little less groggy And my brain less foggy… Continue reading What Rhymes With Coffee?
I knew better than to look Before I leapt For I never would have jumped Had I ever checked I closed my eyes and from the cliff I lunged Without a clue what lay below I took the plunge I didn't have a clue How far I'd fall Or if I'd survive the… Continue reading Leap of Faith
Another slow Writing day I don't know What to say I long to go Into the fields I've words to sow And tales to tell But nothing grows That I can find No water flows The river's dried So I guess, instead I'll stay inside
That look in your eyes May only be fleeting But I can't deny It sets my heart beating I know my fate Is patiently waiting For it soon will be Twilight And my flesh you'll be eating
Music plays Somewhere far away Inside my head And memories Reel Across the dance floor Of my mind Each one Telling a a different tale Of me the angel Of me the devil Some are real Some are fable And truth be told I don't know the difference Any more Response to the Word… Continue reading untitled – because titles are hard
Hope Feels so naive As though I'm wishing On a fading star But I believe Because I must To keep the demons And their screaming Far away My only want Is me and you To have chance Again, some day If they hurry Perhaps my dreams Might reach the star Before it… Continue reading Wishing On A Fading Star
Some call it karma While some call it fate Divine intervention - All terms that I hate We're not simply acting As a deity dictates Life is not just some ride That we cannot escape We're not stuck on a path From which we can't deviate Our lives are not set in stone The future… Continue reading untitled – something about fate
One day at the Carnival I peeked inside the Fortune Teller's stall She sat head bowed Dressed in rags Hands resting on her crystal ball Her whispered voice Cut through the haze And background noise "Every future is known to me, Love, death, your destiny. For just one dollar you too can see What… Continue reading The Fortune Teller
I picture The creative process In many ways Sometimes It is akin To sitting in a cave Alone Waiting For some weary traveler To shamble in Take shelter by my fire Sate their hunger And tell me a tale Or two Sometimes It is more like A gallery Its walls covered In abstract… Continue reading The Creative Process