wings of vanity somehow found a way. mask chronic shame; break on through the wax too much too soon, see at last: i ought to shine like these tears, flowing, falling, filling the space between but ultimately

If there was anything in this world that I would desperately cling to; it is your life, your love, your smile. How cruel is fate to have brought you into my timid embrace only to rip you from my empty

I am torn by the duality of my spirit. Destroyed by indecision, halted in hesitation. Am I cold and heartless? Merciful and compassionate? I spend countless hours exploring my soul. After ages passed,

As I sit here staring, madly glaring at the pieces of the past you left behind Tiny, insignificant, trivial things heavy with sentiment and regret I pray the memories won't last that soon I shall forget

We're all talk, talk, talk but no body listens we speak as if we're free because we refuse to see or cage of gilded bars so pretty when they glisten Cautiously, we move our feet upon the predetermined

The tears of the unwanted children down my heart in sorrows Their cries echo endlessly in my bone marrow My soul yearns to love them steal them from the cradle before the world can touch them to give them

The way, a moving border between worlds, connecting all without owning, with no beginning, neither end. The way whose every dot keeps memory of endless moments, stories, lives. A narrow gap between

Love me as if tomorrow is The End. As if our Sun will never rise again; and we are left to listen to the Silence. Love me with a love ever expanding going ever deeper into the abyss that is this Universe

I will steal the warmth and light from your day. Leaving it dreary and gray. A mere shadow of itself, a poor imitation of night.

White whirlwinds twist and dance, a thick snow cover merges with the horizon and hides the forest’s notched edge. How could I bargain winter’s austere beauty for never-ending summer? To renew itself, life

Image courtesy of pixabay. life is an altarand it demands heartblood no painno gaintrite platitudes more true than anythingsacrifice makes the world go 'round gentle fingers lift up my chin you can do

Sitting side by side, skin touches when its a rough ride some are careless, while hairs forcefully blown by air others are undistracted, music in both ears Some read days news to cover bare face other

The word is born out of the silence, so the beginning of writing is to master the pause. I write, as if stretching my limbs, numb after a long sleep. The awakening of the word is like the action of light,

Sometimes I stare and I squint Shifting my eyelids until I see whatever I want to see When the aperture gets so small and the light so scarce, I can conjure it into just about anything. But not anything

Thoughts sweep through my head, but I'm waiting, looking out of my train window. A spark is about to ignite, a miracle to happen, as the forest suddenly ends and a vastness opens up—plowed fields, the

Your time is now, pink cherries blossom. You are the truth, are you still true to it? My train runs faster, raindrops slide down the window glass, and the thick rain stirs a pond, my soul, as I pass along.

/'kʌð·ərz/ (for Kim) She says kuh-thers /'kʌð·ərz/ not colors /ˈkʌl·ərz/. Not because she doesn’t know, but because it is too much for just an "L" /l/; “colors…” "kuh-thers" “kuthers…”

Here is a small collection of short poems on a variety of subject matters. Most of them are Haiku-like in form. Home The sun was higher We drove all day long, non-stop We were going home. The friendly

The precession of a database should be as accurate as a writer, describing sweet Eleanor, a naughty child maintaining that she's cleaning the kitchen, while stealing all the fairy cakes. The relationship

Little white d o t s swish By the wind                         o                            w There tied to the beast (un) muzzled from the e a s T Indeed the wind DOTH Blow F o r Nuthin’     The snows