I think I would rather be, amongst the poor, the homeless, the sleeping hungry, than amongst the rich, who spend all day stressing over future wealth, their snobbishness a facade to hide intense soul-sucking loneliness. … I think. ml’23
Poetry
I have been writing poetry since the 2nd grade. Why stop now?
Poetry
Flight
Taste the wind,cast over landscapestorn and scoredby the talonsof a vulturerending graniteinto dustwhile silent screamsin jagged shardsflow through the bleaknessin your mind. Spread your arms,fingers stretchedand cry shrilllike nailson a chalkboardhead back and proudthen leaphigher than a houseto soar and bankthrough granite dustto the stars beyond. ml’23
Poetry
Bliss
Bliss comes in many forms,chocolate ice creamwith rice krispies,granola in my yogurt,the smell of baking bread,finding notesfrom long-lost friendstucked into the pagesof a tattered book,the tiny red headthat pops up under my deskto say hello as I work,with a smile,and a wagging tail. ml’23
Poetry
Sunday Morning Sunlight
A quiet chill Redolent of last nights fire A tang trapped in the dew That pocks the lawn with a thousand bursts Like a carpet of sleeping fireflies A distant call Lady Cardinal reminds her hub To bring home some tasty treats For the youngsters breakfast As he flashes crimson
Poetry
Salt Air And Memories
Deep sea waits, flexing its’ fingers as it looks skyward Logs glisten in the sun, freshly rained on – hopeful Pebbles wait softly sighing in the wake of the tide – mournful If I stand on tiptoe I can see the sea faraway And in my dreams feel the wet
