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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I'd like to think of life as something more than an ineluctable progression of time; I'd like to picture more than the colors and shapes my senses have told me to see; I'd like to dream of something more than the ideals I've been raised to believe; I'd like to measure ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You made a home of this cold, stale place; You made a home of anything, even darkness. With every breath you blew away the fog that Obscured the beauty of our home, And let out the cleanest sigh that filled my lungs With breathable dust; The trees, too, made us a little house Atop the steepe...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A single moment, Merely a second!—nothing more. Simply what it is, do not dare ask For that furtive, ephemeral moment to last. What happens to you when it dies? To look back and view one’s worldly life Seems so suddenly dearth of pride, And you—oh, you—where shall you go? Will you r...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A road is but a road, A single dimensional instrument of sorts, ‘Til at end it hosts a stunning destination; Perhaps a road lightly weathered by time’s weary imprints But by sunlight’s subdue, still yet a singular road; And he moved upon such steps with virile dignity, Across the plain...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    It’s so cold tonight. Looking out the window, Lights, streets, cars, the invisible wind, They glitter and pass, glitter and pass, a cycle Never ending. And I, I am part of it all, all this that circles itself round And round through my vision. I am part of it all, and nothing more. An ope...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Of Mother Earth I do request, A simple gift, but nothing less, To scold thy husband Father Time For spinning Earth without thoughtful mind. Life’s moving picture that refuses rest Remains deaf to memory’s protest, And the gleaming years meant to last Are cast behind my scattered past. ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The relentless sound of battle that resonates to the depths of this country will not end there, And our piercing screams of sorrow like a jagged knife will be heard without return of aid, for this war is old news in all cities. Everyone fears, Everyone fears the sight of red and the stenc...

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