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{Poem #40}

I think of the people so small 
Who believe in life there’s no call.
Who believe in the vain and inane 
Depend on the profane  198 more words

{Windmills Of The Mind}

Original Poetry: Thanksgiving Gathering

This table –
elongated and stretching
to the borders of the room,
set with heavy silverware
and water goblets and plates
centered with linen napkins in steel rings, … 362 more words

Poetry

Animus

You, reigning down

Angry at my Audacity & my Joy

Hard against my Tenderness & my Tears

Working your fists of Rage

Everything bothers you. 15 more words

Original

(9/16/2014) Weeping Willow

They come here every day,

Every day since they were the tiny versions of the people they are now.

They laugh and joke and tease, 126 more words

Writing

Drum Beat

The drum beat wakes up the now
without our past being forgotten.
It speaks straight to an artist’s mind
and it riles up the downtrodden. 82 more words

A-Zone

(11/20/2014) Part 2 of Weeping Willow. Hollow.

He’s here – the boy I love so much.

His head bowed, eyes sunken and hollow.

She’s always here now in memory and in the whispers of the wind. 122 more words

Writing

[00.05.05] Where Seoul Is

This is a place where grandmas would rather push a little chair with wheels than be pushed in a wheeled chair.

This is a place where grandfathers are numerous and play and never spare a word of shame. 136 more words

Writings: