The sky illuminated. You, waking. Blue eyes among the strands of your long hair, on the pillow. You smile. Almost slow motion. Like in the movies. Could it be?

      movement of spirit in connecting with his/her humanity with respect existing realizing developing echoing pushing oneself reminding oneself immense responsibility and taking charge around and within oneself happening realizing   a gateway or a passageway         Explosions In The…

Sweet summer memories, of a young couple. He is strong, fearless, a masculine perfection against her pale frailness, her gentle quiet. They stand beneath the glittering lights, slow, dance to the beat of drums and match, as we, two who were born to complement, bright…

It began with Christopher Columbus, who gave the people the name Indios. And thus began their demise.

If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all. Please don’t attempt to sing my praise, The awkward pause That’s sure to cause Hurts more than blades. You’re sure you can say something nice Until you see It cannot be Take my advice…

Stanza 1 girls smiling wind through their dresses a few rising waves a bit of dust before the thunderstorm taste of icecream # Stanza 2 smell of icecream sight of smiling sound of thunderstorm watching dresses collecting dust in front of the waves # Stanza…

Prize nothing above Life: things may be loved But only by the living Though precious the gift Inviting such risk Misses the point of giving Past prompt: What object would you save from a fire? Form: Alouette  

Mrs Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself. Moments in our lives are like flowers we choose to pick up or to buy from the florist s Who sometimes chooses for us Life is sometimes beyond our control. mrs dalloway by v. Woolf

Let’s go exploring Let’s run away Into the night And into the day I’m asking, imploring Just come out to play And if it’s alright I’d like you to stay Let’s fly away, soaring Get out of our way And by our own might Claim…

promises… kisses that did not touch her lips words she only read dreams they both had… poems that no poet ever put down on paper that were never sold in a bookstore or underlined by students in a literature seminar… don t Count your Chicken…