Keats was the guy our English teachers fawned all over ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’ spellbound many a napping student, when not making their stomachs churn Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley all dutifully took their turns more recently was Neruda, in love with socks – a sartorial,…

Am I able to write a stream of consciousness? A song of gratitude and thanks? For a year ago, almost to the day, Some Poets was born. Creative, energetic talented poets The world over Soulmate whom I have never met And, yet met Only on…

Remember the doll you made me, her tiny, bendable limbs, her auburn, embroidery-floss hair? And that marvelous cape? Remember the calligraphy you penned and framed to spur me on in my writing? Remember that first taste of shared freedom when I visited you at college,…

My face has many flaws, I am in no way perfect, Nor do I strive to be. I prefer no makeup. I prefer a real face instead of hiding behind my insecurities.

Pale and spotted with age, marked and ragged each passing day. Perspiration gleens with each new trial. Brow furrowed while hunting in style.   Teeth gleam white in the light of day Jaw squared, he sees his prey. Long dreadlocks flow in the wind. While…