 |
An old one on the observation of poets.
|
 |
There's a haunted house inside me.It retains unwanted anger, regrets,and shame.-It's dark, and it's spooky.The cobwebs hold hostile emotions.All that'..
|
 |
~Echoes of You~Your ghost hides in the corners of our wrinkled sheets,reaching out transparent hands to grasp at my foolishness.I've never enjoyed swi..
|
|
Paint roses, blossoms, and vines on your jeans.Dance on a picnic table in the rain.Read Plath, Frost, Salinger, and Kerouac.Ask a butterfly to sit on ..
|
|
This too shall passAutumn fields with chestnuts strewn,Resound October's chilly tune,Spreading down through dirt and grain,Touching roots of sugar can..
|
|
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I''ve said helloTo those I pass,But none can do the same.~And though I knowWe're a different class,To each I cannot blame.~Perhaps toda..
|
 |
Those mighty trees that spread their armswere once as tall as you.And none have felt the sweeping strokesof what a saw could do.Yet underneath those s..
|
 |
Inside a laundromat's luminous, sleepy window,among the low-pitched, hypnotizing humof stainless steel washers and dryers,he sits in his usual dull gr..
|
|
When you’ve been markedand filed awayand blades of grass replace legionsof euphoric fans,the only unfettered applause leftwill be the rustling o..
|
 |
With smogHovering amongCrevicesOf a sleepy cityThe sun roseFrom slumberHeedful of rainOn the way.Soon,As increasing showersDiffused puddlesOn shiny st..
|
 first  prev 1
|
|
Profile
Writing
Friends
Share This