The willow tree.
The willow trees. Old poet told the girl. We must try to go back to where we were, if we can. The bright eyed girl asked with wonder, dear poet, I come to… Continue reading
Tag Archive: Writing
Ancient floors.
Ancient floors. In the mirrors of time.Old windows may never be closed.Surging memories and regret leave us wishing we were kinder and better.The broken roads leave me spiraling in the memories of kind… Continue reading
Kind people, good song and laughter.
Kind people, good song and laughter. I found Joe Ann at a strip club. Only place near Fort Hood that played my Detroit sports. She would sit with me and hold my hands.… Continue reading
My father never cried or healed.
My father drank his rum and coke every night. As a child, I accepted his want to find peace in the rum. I would sit with him, and I saw in his eyes.… Continue reading
I hate you; I love you. And amazing dance video by Sara and Reda.
I hate you; I love you. I try to escape you; I try to flee your memory. I repeat secret words in hidden places in my mind. I hate you; I love you.… Continue reading
Bad love. And music by lovely Lindsey Stirling.
Bad love. I felt the darkness of the night overtaking the lights of the day. Stealing away the gentleness that is left in me. The once sweet memories had turn to a cancer.… Continue reading
Waiting for a miracle.
Waiting for a miracle. I remember you, I remember us. You were my wild and untamed lady, and I was running to you, and I was running away from you in the same… Continue reading
The city of lights or anywhere.
The city of lights or anywhere. (I am tire of being locked-in. I need a vacation to anywhere.) We sat drinking the American whiskey in a Paris tavern where Dear Hemingway drank his… Continue reading
The coyote is dancing.
The Coyote is dancing. Once, locked-up man knew the solace and the mercy of the kind lakes. Once, the free man danced with the stars and the moon. In the mist of the… Continue reading
You get, what you deserve.
You get, what you deserve. We steal, we borrow, we loan and we want more, we want less. Pretty feet, soft and tender legs I kissed softly, and I looked in her eyes.… Continue reading