Your profile depicts elegance of an aristocratic past ripe with jewels in hair and neck. Your skin illuminates the canvas as it contrasts with the black fabric draped to the ground. Your shoulders seem soft and smooth as they radiate down your white arms. Your…

Hi fellow poets I am Lee, the author of Lee’s poetry corner page on Facebook and have named myself “lepetitpoetry” as I am tiny in stature, a lover of the romance of French language. I am a grounded young mom, teacher and writer. I have…

Dear friend I remember the last time we met , The gossips we had , the frolic Of having iced popsicles, and how We parted away ,on that day, and now it Has been years that we haven’t met Our roads are different I know…

She looks in the mirror with sad eyes. So many questions dribbling in her mind, As she touches her face with a sigh, Imperfection is a word that runs dry, It tastes like acid and vile, It causes her tears streaming wild. “Am I beautiful,…

mama, i’m sending my letter up to the skies to the heavens where you are i need your hug more than ever i’m trying to the the sails in the boat where is the thunderous wind? i want to tell you that you left a…

does it ever feel like no matter how hard, how often or how frequent you push, push, push, push, PUSH, you can never seem to get ANYWHERE? square one. 1st base. the fucking beginning. my castle isn’t made of cement, it’s SAND. sometimes it feels like…

The word Promise shouldn’t exist in any language— For it allows an easy perverted manipulation of the heart and subjects those who believe in it to be left open— vulnerably desecrated to a point that is cruel. A promise presupposes honor and should dispose of…

December a time for Christmas and love brought to the amusement park a new ride The fiercest of them all, and nowhere to hide. Then January emerged a new year and more frightening effects all walks of life rode it while it presented defects. No…

Summer’s for loving, summer’s for picnics by the beach, the mountains, the limestone caves.   he takes his blanket, the threadbare, wine handwoven one, his gran ma made or was it great-gran ma, family heirloom and wrapped his sand driven toes deep into the pile,…

The 24 poem: “International Gourmet Feast”   Wine-Matching   Strawberry vodka with the marinated prunes so crabby and a choice of pale sherry or Pinot Gris for those canapés crabbé   a delightful Pratsche Rosé for that Parmentier so cool and a slightly off-dry riesling…