There’s much that’s made of stone: bridges, tunnels and statues too. They’re harsh, unfeeling, strong. We humans are flesh and blood: passions, emotions and heart. I see why we don’t last long. So what is the point of my art?

Branded clothes, Pretty shoes Bags and Jewels All this was not for her.. Deep down she wanted someone Who would Compliment her For who she was With or Without Them!

Tree limbs falling Leaves flying Branches thrown about Saw is buzzing Deeply cutting Removing all the rot Wife watches husband work while sipping away on her wine gj

Love is not just sunny days. Sometimes it storms. Sometimes it rains. The best of loves weather the storms embrace the rain and keep us warm. But the forecast calls for sun.

She stared fixatedly at a point  Past his right shoulder. ”You are raunchy, loud and a bore.” He smiled With dead eyes. ”You, my dear, are expensive, dramatic and bossy.” This is why they stopped talking to each other.  

My brain is starting to hurt. My mind is weary. I’m not sure I’m doing this right. New stuff is scary. It’s like standing naked in front of an audience and you’re all hairy- especially if you’re prone to like being a hair-free zone. It…

She, alone, was ready for the apocalypse. She was well equipped with weapons. She was designed for survival. She had no family ties No one to slow her pace down. She had everything she needed for years But the raspberry, orange jam for her PB&J…

He asked for three things: A bottle of Coke, a package of cheese and peanut butter crackers and a ham sandwich He hated dialysis and diabetes and kidney failure He never wanted these things… all at once   In memory of Al Eisnaugle (12/20/1946-6/22/2008, 11…

She was my closest friend, My dearest companion, My strongest support. She was my fiercest competitor, My most frequent confrontation, My harshest critique. My sister, my friend -h.e.m.

The hour of the form poem is upon us. This hour is dreaded and beloved. This year the form is the Sevenling. The creation of this form is attributed to Roddy Lumsden and it is based on the following poem by Anna Askhmatova. He loved…