Bridges forged with birth Stand not far from the earth. They are bridges made of wood When lit they burn as they should. Bridges raised for the time of the day Never last after the sun goes astray. They are bridges made of brick when pushed, are gone quick. Bridges built with time Stand the … Continue reading Burning Bridges
We have all heard that when God did create: On our palms, was inscribed our fate. I do believe... | A 270-word poem, and here's to wishing my blog on its second year alive 🙂 Not exactly its birthday, but actually its birth week.
There are his shoes. So where is he? I ponder as I tie the laces, tighter than necessary. But I should not wonder where he would be. Gone on to where shoes are not needed – my tears come easy. This is his riding jacket. So where is he? I think as I put it … Continue reading Missing Me?
Why am I a poet? Is it just because of my vocabulary and language skills? If so, all poets should have earlier been teachers at schools. Is it because, the world I see is different from others, that I write poetry? But then, every madman on the streets would be the poets of the century. … Continue reading Why Am I A Poet
For such painful moments of separation show us that, if we care enough to care, we care enough to be hurt.
One grew on the best of everything safe from harm caused by anything. The other grew on the toughest of conditions learning to live in the way of the worldly creations.
Home is where the heart is. But when the home is ravaged ... the heart no longer is.