Because I can,
watch the cat
creep out from beneath the bed
in the moonlight
as if the quiet appealed
to her better senses ,
I too can tiptoe between thoughts
before the stars move
before she decides it’s time for sleep
before tomorrow has it‘s choices
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
A people’s heart can be found in their poetic words. In history men and women have stood firmly upon their soapboxes and street corners, rallying the deepest beliefs of people to rise up and be heard. The poetrypages.com has offered that voice a new
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While I'm sleeping I'm most active, dreaming. There was a dog, but no cats in my dream last night.
Ron