It's like a new baby. You want to tell the world and at the same time you want time to stay still and taste, over and over again, the feeling of magic swirling all over your life. It was suppose to be my Christmas gift. It's my "Life happens right here, right now " gift!…
I am the kind of person that needs to have everything handled before I move. I'm getting ready to be ready. To the point that when I'm finally ready, I'm too exhausted with stress that I don't really enjoy the thing I got ready for. I tried something different this time. I announced the release…
I've been traveling in real life and in virtual life too. Find one of my piece on this week's poetry anthology at The Oak Wheel. Take the time to discover other amazing writers! With great respect! A.
Little drum little drum, please show me how to sing* Little drum little drum, please show me how to sing Rising like a moon with breathless beauty Feeble tremors awakening our sleeping hearts So my voice can be heard So my voice can be heard So my voice can be heard One voice chanting the…
There is a heart in a jar made of glass Protected piece of art in a deserted museum Its colour so bright it makes you wonder If it will ever come to life I stare for long hours annoyed by the silence Of this abandoned treasure laying lifeless Screaming at the glass hoping for a…
It needs just a swift image A memory of touch Fragrances of feathery words To reveal a blazing passion It needs just a sweet promise Of delirious nights and delights An enticing scent of poetry To set ablaze a raging fire Seduction and passion In a whirlwind of patience A cascade of laughter And silenced desires…
... For Clemence 1995-2016 He walks with acute intention A boiling vengeance in his rotten heart A task asked for, no, a mission In which, unknowingly, she will take part She would pay for them all Their disdain and dismissal He responded to the inner command Cold steel in his firm hand She dreams of flowers…
I lay lifeless on a blank page Thirsty for ink, craving words The first letter hit me quietly Punching a hole in my resignation A soft feather with pearls of ink Soaking slowly the dry leather of my cover The first word slides tenderly On snow skin, cold still from the prolonged coma Words after…
Quiet streets of broken dreams A cry stolen behind closed doors That no one heard That everyone ignored But, A whisper, a rumour Running underneath the shiny smiles Is it her? Was it him? I heard... Quiet illusions fading As one day the sun stopped shining And the night reign supreme In a broken heart…
As a child I sighed Looking for An elsewhere Still further Today Even further I'm still here Ambrozya Napowrimo day 9
Happy Hour with Pablo and Lolaz 