grave with misfortune, surprise
blossoms in my soul.
I write because I want the sugar I harvest to sweeten someone else’s black coffee . . .
I have discovered my God given and unique perspective comes out best through written word.
Poetry is a chance to squeeze the creative juices out of each word. I love the taste, smell, sounds and texture of words. May you be encouraged and experience the world with fresh sight as you read.
the cage around
my heart,and pull out the throbbing
pain within, I am surprised to find a small
trembling bird, waiting for the
strength of release.
There is a secret staircase I
spiral down, when the front
stairs feel too exposed. In
the darkness of fledgling hours
I retreat. Tracing your love notes
with heart, soul, and mind. Sipping
the earthy tea of you testaments. Conversing
together like old friends. Turning over to you all that
Allowing sunrise to color in the black and white outline
of your form. Loving because you first loved me.
Some punctuate life with a consistent and steady .
Some complete their lives bungee jumping with expression !
Others leave us guessing at their purpose ?
But you went out with a ;
An incomplete sentence that can longer be edited.
The problem with a note left behind?
Your unique handwriting betrays your existence matters.
Writing my way through depression and loss.
I’m a worm
trapped in a cocoon of
No! Don’t try to
open me up.
me emerge, through painful
Short lived and beautiful.