What happened in the woods

I drank from the cupof the flowing stream of verseand was thus poisonedwith the charms of what can bein one's imagination

Posthumous

Perhaps all my wordswill be cherished when I'm goneaging like fine wine…Appreciation in death'sthe tragedy of poets

A day in the life of..

I walked down the street a merry song on my lips;a million li'l things did cross my path and my mind saying 'You do not matter'I tried not to seenot to let them get to me continued singing;but my singing got softer ...slowly fading and dyingHow do I convince the heart that has always been…

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Wildflower

No peony am Ino refined graces have I to boast ofnor am I a rose,that coveted, is too proud to disarm herselfof her many swordsI am not the stoic lotusthat grows only amid earthy destructionfor I need love,lord knows I need love to growas sunshine from the purest of soulsnourishment in rays of gold...I am…

The Innocent Prisoner

He walked in kicked and beaten like a street mongrel,smelling of the gutter, bent and frail;sinned and shamed, he walked in for life -would he reveal his innocence? No, friendship is sanctified. The inmates lined up for the daily broth, men and women of every sort –the criminals, the murderers, the sufferers -casting vacant glares…