This poem will start with an “I’m sorry” But it will not be meant  Because yes it hears the birds chirping And sees the flowers sway in the warmed breeze The sun is shining upon its face But the same sun burns and ages the skin   The heart of this poem does not sing Its words are darker than just blue It sees the storm as it approaches This poem welcomes the rain Tonight the moon will not be missed But encouraged to hide...

If I had known herI would have askedHow does a heart break We are not born with excess bits and piecesTo be broken offGiven away hereLeft behind therePressed between the pages of a favorite bookLike a flower barely resembling what it once wasLifelessA pale and dull hue of what should have been Everything is so necessaryCodependentThe smallest absence can devastateA tremor can take things away from youThe use of a handOne...

Once a child With a world so wide The sky so close I could spread my arms like wings Reach for the warmth of the sun Feel the fall of rainbows Washing over me Leaving me vivid I was color  Soft like petals  Opening for the first time Mouthing words  Becoming sound Spelling my own name Always Dreaming forward More than a girl Less than a woman Learning power  The curve of my smile To sway my own hips A request to hold my h...

A friend of mine is having a hard time. His no love, no job, no idea what to do with myself state is getting to him. Hope is on the horizon. I'm absolutely sure of this for him. Why, because he's my friend and my love does wonders. In the meantime…Blah, blah, blah. Survival is tough mentally.  My advice to him: Write.  He’s talented. It is a side thing for him, I know. However, writing is in him--if you know what I mean....

This is what I owe you My baby My Kate My memory It's that time of yearAgain I retreat Slowly First within closed curtains  Darkened rooms Under the covers There are no dates or calendars needed None that can define How my mind drifts My body slows I cannot eat You were real I smell your newness  In the oddest of places Hear you breathe The quickness of your heart  Beating Woke me last night My body knows For this month I...

“To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” Ralph Waldo Emerson said that. Ralph was so right. I’m visiting my family in Germany right now. I haven’t been back home in quite some time. I woke up at 11 a.m. But keep in mind, that is six hours earlier on my body’s clock which is still operating according to Eastern Standard time. So now my extended family...

You speak to me in beautiful words. You are so well read. That is two of the things I love about you. Those are just two things pulled from thousands. You are like poetry to me. Sometimes when you speak, even I feel like a poem. It is an easy trap, covered by music and the heady scent of our favorite flower—of us. However, I have seen your cracks. I have seen your jagged edges. I have glimpsed the you behind the words whe...

I wanted to write a poem for you.  I've never written one before.  I've seen that little book you keep,  the cuts and pastes of your life, a collection of words.  I've seen the pictures and the artful curve of your script.  I've seen you nurture it when you thought there were no eyes.  I want to be a part of your book.  I want to be a part of your life. I look into your life.  I look into your eyes. And, I see you.  I wan...

It is not always necessary  To be in the presence  Of the one that makes your heart beat faster  The one that ignites your passions  Defines your needs  Whose touch remains  Long after his body has departed It is nice to know that he simply exists  Is somewhere  That in a limitless world  Your One has come forward  And places himself in your path  Meets your eyes  Does not blink  Realizing  You are his story He may be sta...

He wants to save me  With his sweetness  Envelope me  In the warmth of his love  He sees a bird, rare  A broken wing  A hidden spirit  Lost  In the fear of flight With his prayers And the touch of his hands  An infusion of his spirit  The curve of his smile  The music in his voice  The feel of his heart  Beating next to mine  As he leads me in this dance  And I begin to depend on  The strength of his arms  He thinks thisW...

“Mommy,” his small voice was shaky as he stood in the doorway of his mother’s room. As she did most nights, Simone had fallen asleep sitting up with her back against the wall, surrounded by a sea of open text books and study notes. She heard the call but it was lost in the midst of a dream and the beautiful cries of violins. The dress she wore swayed as she danced. The tall, dark haired gentleman that wooed her lowered hi...

I want to tell you,  Tell you about a woman’s love,  Because the world does not know enough.  There are few words sufficient in nature  With meanings that can cover the depth  Of what she gives  When she chooses  To open her arms  And lets you enter her heart. It is what old, lonely men wish to whisper  In the ears of their sons,  So that they will know  And maybe save themselves  From making mistakes,  From losing it in...

Reality is heavy  Duty is steep  Tell me a story  To help me sleep It doesn’t need a hero  A middle or an endJust start with the wordsAnd let us begin Give me fearAnd hate and painSometimes, cryingReleases the strain Make me laughAnd dance and singGet lost in the musicForget every damn thing Give me lovePassion that enduresIf only for one nightWhisper, “I’m yours" Lie if you must A tale is a taleThe bigger the betterThe l...

When I was fifteen, I wrote a poem that earned me a spot in a writer’s workshop. I didn’t submit it, a teacher did. I was the youngest person in the workshop. I did not know it at the time but a special arrangement had been made for me after some degree of protest. I didn’t even have to pay. There was a girl, she was seventeen and apparently gifted from the way her poetry read. She paid. The rest of them were pretty much...

Don't sigh Looking at your life While standing naked Bare Before mirrors Seeing your reflection Through his eyes Letting tears cloud Your own Someone Should have told you Long ago Should have taken your hand Touched your skin Kissed your lips Whispered in your ear With heat Fueled by more than Passion's fire Now words are not enough Sounds die slowly In the face of pain's Ugliness This goes beyond thought It is the spirit...