Best Emptying Poems

 Somewhere in a strange land
An unknown heart throbs for me
Etching an amorous graffiti
On the blank walls of my mind
Where ever I am, I feel...

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Trickle tender tears - those that take their time
born to bathe and baptize bereavement;
dew drops cling to fragile petals of forlorn feelings ~

aged and alone
sentiments...

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Winter Fantasy

I love to walk through twilight
In mountain hills
Breathlessly awaiting evening’s first
Flakes of snow in a winter carnival
That rowdy gathering clouds
Threatened to toss upon their...

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This love, enduring - ballast of the soul
is ever curing, thee to mine, not role,
but a clear stream of commonplace, of knoll,
that not division's grinding...

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MORNING GOLD

In the midst of morning, emptying mug;
and time’s gold needs to be spent -
I yell loudly “Get up!”

The quill wants to repent
its movement through...

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                        ...

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Shine down Your light
From your home in the sky
Rain down Your love
From the heart who gives
More than a home
More than a heart
More precious hope than...

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Poetry is spontaneous, pure, raw emotion,
don't you dare label what I say as cliche. 
This is my perspective of life in motion,
through experiences encountered day...

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On a dark Friday night, creature crawling 
The darkness silenced, frogs in swamps shuts 
Croaking and the hissing create muted at once
To perceive the whistlers...

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( TRICK OR TREAT )

Toddlers walking the streets at night,
Running from house to house.
Images of candy fill their heads,
Costumes of all kinds abound.
Knocking on strangers...

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We come full circle like a sun
Peeling workers back, sucking the core
Raw, emptying it of sweat and everything
Leaving flaccid evening
To be pounded by the relentless...

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The neighbours went off on their yearly vacation,
Off to visit some foreign nation.
Leaving me keys and a list a mile long, 
To watch their pets....

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Photography is a visual expression,
I love capturing images frozen in time;
Sometimes, I snap close-up details of the flowers,
I stroll city streets searching for the sweet...

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YES !


Written in my palms
Within the plasma tempest of my cellular flow
Courses in the pulmonary oxygen
The direction linear fate
Souls writing indicates
Always through pass of time
Reverberates
My...

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The German Christmas market was in town 
Stalls emptying fast and looking quite bare
Last minute shopping before it closed down   
T'was Christmas eve...

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