Are Poems

sparrows are like us

The sparrows are like us
fell from the dry, hot sky, first the male
sparrows, be because he was older than her
and had developed a habit of hunting near
the large chimneys at the chemical factory
and it was up to the young widow
she had been a fledgling the year before
to feed and bring up five hungry chicks
and if

Books are Bon Fires

stacks and stacks of books
filling up Aunt Edith’s home library
the nephews and nieces laugh at them
They are old-fashioned, antiquated, useless

Some of these missives were read over and over
Cherished like an old friend with each reading
Others never made it past page two
Boring and dull, deemed useless, put back on the shelf

Upon Aunt Edith’s death these books

Our Lives Are To Short

The clock gnaws marrow from the bone,
Its hands are wolves in a quiet room.
I pace the halls of books like a penitent,
Collecting alphabets, equations, broken hymns—
Each one a splinter of fire to brand my palms.

Learning is a lantern, I tell myself,
But it burns both the pupil and the page.
Still, I drink the poison of knowledge,
Measure

You Are

You are the scar
That keeps me underneath
You are like a shooting star…
I can no longer breathe…

I’d rather be above than below
I’d rather be alive than alone 
I’d rather be an enlightened show
I’d rather be not a cancer unknown

What are you burning

What are you burning 
I think it's your soul 
Breathing in smoke
That won't fill the hole 

And when you breathe out
Your chemical pain
Your heart is still bleeding 
And numb just the same 

Emptiness comes 
You know it so well
The hours of nothingness 
Then breaking the spell 

Dead ends and grey roads 
You've been here before
Run

Hands Are Buried Last In Quicksand

I breeze through endless of the trees,
I lose my way in which I choose,
Broken souvenirs will appear,
Fears jam and stuck in first gear.

Hands buried last in quick sand,
eyes focus to ears whispering,
silver stars, captured in jars,
glittering like your eyes, focusing.

There's a horizon I can't reach,
A cliff that hands can't withstand,
A hawk soars above my shore,
As

THE POETS ARE COMING, THE POETS ARE COMING

Global and genuine
Personality wise kind
Words and sentences their introduction and identification
Exploration throughout
Through the journey of their minds into reader’s hearts
Where the adventure starts
Destination bound from origin
Every Poet with their individual detail
Showcasing like a Museum
Their portal of wit and style
Emotions unleashed
What all minds crave
Testimony 
Before into the after
Sentences lead and words follow
Up the alpha scale
Without fail
Pausing

To The Blind That Are Dreaming

Before I was blind there were dreams.
But seeing my dreams
before I could see, depended
on how much you could really see.
--
Blind before birth,
and what you have asked of me.
Having my, our, hearing dreams-
your perception
is sound, sound that is seen;
left more unsaid about me.
--
I still see to see in my dreams
as one
where I'm still alive.
--
What they must

Best Friends ARE

   B elievers
   E NERGETIC
   S ELF ASSURED
   T ALENTED

   F ABULOUS 
   R EASONABLE
   I MAGINATIVE
   E NCHANTING
   N ATURE LOVERs
   D ependable

People Are Like Rivers

People are like rivers. 
The river water is the same everywhere
But every river is narrow 
In some places it's fast current
Some places is wide
Some is slow in water flow
In some places the river water is clear
In some places the river water is turbid
In some places the water is cold
In some places the water is warm
The

When You Feel Sick

When you feel sick, shadows take their place,
I long to hold you, touch your gentle face.
Yet barriers rise, unseen but firm and tall,
They keep me distant, though I give my all.

I dream of walking through the stormy air,
To whisper comfort, show how much I care.
But fate erects a wall I cannot cross,
And every step feels

Are you going to Canbrerra'

Some go to canberra to look at the sights.'
Some went in 22, to complain on its blights.'
Its a strange old place canberra.' A shop window of sorts.' A (w e f) example of just 
What has been bought.' Gee thery are a strange mob in 'that place' but the best place
TWOT'S; to see..And in great

Fall How Are You Dressed

Your are dressed up in cool nights and days,
Showing pretty colors always.

In the labyrinth of dreams, where words are sculpted from silence

In the labyrinth of dreams, where words are sculpted from silence,
I often wonder why I don't dare to speak my truth.
How could it be so hard to let the heart flow,
When day by day I play with sounds, with rhymes, with metaphors?
Would it be enough for these words to reach her, to bloom?
I already know

Letters that are sound enhancing

Letters that are sound enhancing
and trippingly through my words go dancing ~
that’s the language that I seek
to get all my verse to speak, 
though mostly ~ tongue-in-cheek.

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