Anyone who has not seen the ending of Reign. I’m enclosing it here with my favorite poem. All of Reign is painful to watch, it’s a reminder of how much suffering there is in this world whatever your social class. The following poem is my favorite poem of all time by Edgar Allen Guest. “IContinue reading “Reflection”
Tag Archives: writing
There Are No Missing Pieces
You claim I’m giving pieces of myself. Like candy cut up for the crowds. You claim I’m just like everybody else. That I don’t know the value of myself. Nobody can take what I don’t give. I still at the core am who I am. These scars upon my soul will soon fast heal. IContinue reading “There Are No Missing Pieces”
The boundless rain
Since I left my heart beats out of pace. What kind of sign is it that without you and with this vast distance, the doctors claim my heart beats with the rain?How funny! And how strange? The farther I am from home-The more increase my woes.And my heart is truly breaking I can show you,Continue reading “The boundless rain”
Train Effect
People always talk on trains Present are the poets Writing in the looking car A natural impulse- Like the smell of coffee spilled in coach seatsThe monotonous hum harmonizing our chatter as we sing along to the silent roar of our thoughts rolling aside the tracks. Such a natural impulse to be- writing.It’s the effectContinue reading “Train Effect”
The Poet
Inherently inclined towards strong spirits,The poet,She writes at the witching hour. Enduring each oscillation of affectationsScripting lamentsupon her swollen, rozened kneessorrow imbued in asymmetrical metersand melancholy within her words, divinedThe poetcontinues her scripture,defunct with the passage of time.
Are Poems More Lovely Obscured?
Mom Said: Poems Are More Lovely Obscured When Their Meanings Are Hidden In Roses And Dirt Hide Your Frustrations Conceal Their Implications Calm Your Anger And Passion Inside Against The Unrighteous Against Those Who Don’t Hide. But I Without Reason Will Not Mute My Meanings Change Must Come Because Lives Are Lost And The DinContinue reading “Are Poems More Lovely Obscured?”
I met an angel in the morn
I met an angel in the morning. At six o’clock she woke me. Twas twice the hours her spirit called. So I stayed I, in the chapel to greet the angel next to me. And sat I hence on the piano bench and plaid a psalm to please her. And at 9 o’clock my tearsContinue reading “I met an angel in the morn”
The Silent Singer 