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The Sands of Time
Sand
runs through
my fingers,
like time
in a hourglass.
Running slowly
out of time,
I watch
the sun set.
Reflecti... This is a poem about lying down with my daughter each night at bedtime. A friend "diagnosed" me with synaesthesia in elevventh grade. It''s true: num... This is dedicated to my mother Mrs. Carmen C. Ruggiero 11/19/1921 2/18/2007 Sometimes we have a life long dream...
Not sure where to start....
and sometimes we must go to the extreme..
with a thought that''s not so smart.... Eye sea, I saw, we see, or eyes seen, eye to I, upon a see-shore scene. Eye say can you see the to and fro sea saw rocking chair. Between you Eds and Cousin fee you boys have started ongoing chapters in the life and times of the three brothers, here's what I have to add to it.
Here at the Autumnal Equinox, round and round again, as we celebrate the circle of life. (Paula Paixão Botelho "pedramares" is a literary character created by Alexandra* ~ OneLight*®)
Art by Wieslaw Walkuski
In times of old many people believed in these Seerers. Kings would call them in and ask for their advice. This sonnet exercise is direct result of some remarkably accurate and astute observations by richard cederberg on a recent posting of mine. Despite I... This poem is perhaps not for the faint-hearted, and it is a little long.
How many mirrors must we look into before we can really see ourselves?
Another one of Shana''s great smoke screens on reality ~ I''m going to get the... This is a sample from the book Poetical-Verse, please leave me your feedback and views on this book below. thank you
<bgsound src = 'http://www.midifilearchive.com/Rock-pop/HaveYouEverReallyLovedAW.mid'hidden loop=-1> It’s standard here—the goal’s uncertain,
Yet every eye is on the prize... <bgsound src = 'http://tinpan.fortunecity.com/sunra/105/iwanttoknowwhatloveis.mid'hidden loop=-1> I was eating breakfast watching an elderly couple, and I wrote this poem on a napkin because I was channeling their feelings. All of us are responsible for our own destiny, the part of us that is unique. The time will come when your voice cannot be heard anymore, speak now, do it for those that cannot speak for themselves, maybe then you are allowed to... <EM><STRONG>The Silent Wolf</STRONG></EM> <BR>1999 <BR><BR><BR><BR>This wolf is silent, moving l... Today, it can be argued that the slow erosion of language, of the joy of reading complex stories and poems that allow language to parde proudly is van... To my muse - As we grow older, some of us are gifted with a messenger of sorts. For me, it has been from a quiet, yet powerful muse, one who showed m... |
