Best Expressing Poems

Whisper's of October  

Whispers in this soup bowl
20 minutes after its muse explodes,
Daylight remains nothing more than a dream 
Warding off the howling sound...

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**Every pace change --are the voices of poets sharing his/her Ribbon** 

"PINK LADIES"  
  
The phone rings, 
The clock dings,

I scream, scream, and...

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If God gives me tomorrow
I'll try to stop crying
unlike this dark night
where I fear that I'm dying

If He gives me tomorrow
I'll let go of today
I'll...

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Why A Poem Is More Than Ink On A Page

Why a poem is more than ink on a page
its heart, soul and sweet treasure at...

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Absolute truth, both mystery… and paradox. 
“You make me wonder if you exist or not?”

The Greeks glimpsed you in circles and squares,
The medievals revered you...

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When the Goddess of aroma
graces my caffeinated soul, 
her milky quartz crown 
            ...

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Finally 

Doctor, it's been 7 months 
The MEDs aren't kicking in

My dreams are getting stronger, 
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and...

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In view of my mirror
Lately you appear
Smiling at me
While I'm twirling my hair
But you aren't really there
In my dreamy rear view

As I find fulfillment
In everything...

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There's a new child in heaven,
singing with the angels,
floating amongst the clouds.

May their wings, 
forever be your sanctuary.
May your laughter, forever echo,
through the corridors of...

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Poets ponder and will never forget,
expressing emotions in joy and pain.
Scribbling words from sunrise to sunset,
ink flows like a breeze in sunshine or rain.

Their powerful...

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My picture of pain,
Exists with a slight twist,
I place a sharp razor on my wrist,
Dragging it vertically and horizontally I make slits,
Feeling the urge after...

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Autumn will forever be the season of death to me,
but like time, I do not remain cemented in the past.
Memories of ghosts will always lead me...

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Every time I look at your hands,
can't help but feel a little teary.
Fatigued from the struggles of life,
your eyes have become so weary.

We will always...

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(On the state of American Poetry-  A Non-Poem Poem )




I'm Poet Laureate Of Main Street.
They voted.  I won.

' came down to me and...

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Hands
mixing
neutral shades
as brushstrokes form
etches of life’s vignettes in washed-out tones,
Reflecting grim  shadows doused by night’s  ash
Where black  white hints
Trail along
Fingers
Stained.
Grief
In oil
Expressing
Artist's lament
Through...

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