The Waiting Game |
Cry, wait 5 years until you can walk, talk, read and write. Wait 13 years to grow-up and be free to do what you want, when you want.
Go to college and wait 10 minutes for class to start. Take notes wi...
Posted by on Thu, 20 Nov 2008 02:38:00 GMT |
Poets vs. Paupers |
A poet feels rich with only his rhyme.He spends all his sentiments whilea poor man describes the world with his dime.People collect papers in exchange for their time,but no amount of days or dollars e...
Posted by on Mon, 02 Jun 2008 15:34:00 GMT |
A Day in the Life of Miss Margaret |
Her face was paved with ordinaryand bitter bones clamored in her frame. She got up on her pickled toes and tuckedher sagging breasts in a worn bathrobe- at last.She pinned her sopping hair back and wa...
Posted by on Mon, 23 Jul 2007 19:27:00 GMT |
The Skyline Surgeon |
Sirens howl and currents steera patient through jolting lanes.They weave through the atmosphere, threading time with aging branches- stringing hope throughout his veins.Cotton tumors float by softlyan...
Posted by on Thu, 10 May 2007 14:17:00 GMT |
The Compass Rose |
What a waste for a loverto live never to love her, like explorers disgraced- having yet to discoverthe world at their waists.
Posted by on Tue, 08 May 2007 18:51:00 GMT |
The Poet's Window |
Sometimes Our words can paint a picturethe &
nbsp; &n...
Posted by on Sun, 01 Apr 2007 13:44:00 GMT |
The Baptism |
The BaptismThe lily pads bobbed up and down as if nodding in acceptance. They guarded a purified shadow below them. The shade from the palm trees formed finger-like shapes in the water and seemed to b...
Posted by on Sat, 10 Mar 2007 18:04:00 GMT |
Park Ave. |
The sidewalks seem to twinkle from flickering footsteps and a street lamp's kiss. In skies of periwinkle, moonbeams charm silhouettes from the abyss. From flickering footsteps and a street lamp's kiss...
Posted by on Fri, 12 Jan 2007 20:45:00 GMT |
The End of the World |
Your buried heart is where the world begins.When I rest my head on your cherished chest, my ears dig up the cosmos from sweet skins.Pulses are in my palm, like eggs in a nest.You glaze the land with e...
Posted by on Fri, 05 Jan 2007 07:32:00 GMT |
Le Rêve Noir |
Le Rêve Noir (The Black Dream)Like a spindle in the drain, shadows swirl in shallow dreams-stitching sleep with hurricanes.Spaces shrink inside my brain.Tomorrow flushes memorieslike a spindle i...
Posted by on Mon, 01 Jan 2007 21:53:00 GMT |
