Taken off the site due to personal reasons! If you are a marathoner and want to read this one, just let me know! 🙂
Category: Marathon Poem
New take on an old classic: among the poppies!
Dorothy was not in Kansas anymore. A good witch with a twinkly wand, portly munchkins- trebles in their voices, a yellow brick road. A man made of straw, a man made of tin- both walking and talking but lacking vital organs! A scaredy lion, weeping…
Forgotten
In silence The bird calls to the winds, But no one hears its voice, And it is forgotten, And it is alone.
This is it
Strange shadows reside in my path Unseen arms encircling me around Don’t know my future Don’t know my past Whatever it is it is THIS moment Heat of this moment accentuates My heart beat This very moment is All lit-up, Rest is dark Why would…
Cinderella Poem 8
Oh Cinderella You cleaned house so well Now you sit in a castle Making others unwell You once were a beauty Covered in poverty and soot But seriously honey Your life needs the boot You whine and you cry Like all rich folk do So tell…
Sunny Days
Hour 8 – 1:00 PM Hop to the beat Sun beams off my cheeks Glory days are here left not to seek. Rambunctious are few. Cause we see the light. Theres no need to stay down, and out of sight. – J.C.  ©
Will you?
When? When will we learn that different is beautiful? When will we see with our hearts and not our eyes? When will we read the character of the person with the discernment of our minds? Will we ever see that peace brings healing and war…
wolf
once upon a time men spoke only in whispers fear of wolves, shiver they tried to blow the house down buried. big, bad, backfire. __ar. (this is a tanka. also it’s hard to understand but let me know what you think it means? interested in…
poetic therapy
i will unlock the door that has been closed i will free the monsters and the butterflies trying to escape they will scare and beautify- make some feel intimidated while others will leap for joy. i will bear my naked truths-explicitly and you will all…
Cinderella.
Dust and rags and broomsticks, She would wash and scrub and clean, Under the wrath of two step sisters, Who found joy in being mean, And a plump fairy godmother, With a crack upon her wand, Dooming every spell she ever cast, To go completely…