There i was again wondering where i was then knowing now is gone another long sigh another long goodbye for the lessons of youth as truth burns my soul i want to once again know the joy of unknown
Category: Miscellaneous
A Deep Olive Shine
The morning Sun splashes its pallid lemon hues onto surfboard shaped leaves. Their deep olive shine shakes in the light wind; the illuminated shades of its Dove-colored branches reach for the Sun. A dark Tiatian breast with dusky wings are still as they sit deep…
Poem 3: A Tribute to Marianne Moore “The Art of Verse”
I too, am confused by the literary form So undefined A running of the mouth without speaking, now that’s refined Poetry, maybe there are things more important And sometimes I read it in scorn But then something overcomes me and I find myself reborn…
It’s Raining (Hour 3)
The river is low this year. Drought shrivels the crops. But it’s raining today. Summer days see record heat. Night brings no relief. But it’s raining today. Sun burns our skin, scorches our eyes, drains our energy. But it’s raining today. Rivers, crops, people, stretch,…
Untitled
Someone just said I, That is, Special K, Should be a “pre-requisite course in everything in all schools” And I can’t stop smiling… More than that, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact- That people actual, generally and really like this thing…
When you hear the vowels of words
When you hear the vowels of words You sound them out When you say each one How do they make you feel? Good or bad Pronouncing them out loud Happy Smiles Tears Of Cries When you know that you’ve done it, With the one who…
Three
Some say one plus one is two. but one full heart plus one half heart is three when two full hearts meet two full hearts that’s four one plus one is never two **** no prompt Hour three (bad service)!
Poems-an Acrostic
POEMS Putting them on paper as we empty Our souls. They play with our Emotions while we meditate on what we write. It Seems to me, therefore, we should always get it right!
Hooked (Hour One, A Tanka Poem)
pulse pounding, face flush trembling hands dance anxiously longing for The Rush bloodshot eyes stare aimlessly waiting for words to appear (A tanka is a five line poem where the syllable count for each line is as follows: 5/7/5/7/7.)
To Me
Strange how, the perspective of two people, engaging in the same conversation can be worlds apart.