Best Onto Poems

Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self, 
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from...

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~My Nutty Squirrel Poem~

Up in a tree, on a branch
Now you see me, now you don't!

Sneaky and fast, I'm adorable
Now, why would you hunt or...

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Our lives are not immune to the impact of time,
nor is our mind between the tensions of love and hate.
That's why I curse this wanderlust...

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Your time worn hand rests on my shoulder
A gentle firm touch
Ancient fingers stretching awake
And for that moment in time, I receive you
My body marinates in...

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Within reason
lies a house full of ordinary
a chest of bland memories. 
 
            ...

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To appreciate our planet;
begin with its snowcapped mountains,
where sunbeams morph crystals of ice
into gems of glistening light.

Witness white clouds traverse the skies
floating on a vista...

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You Are Not Invited

--Latching onto my soul without an invitation--
Elements around my shore expose more than air
--Playing with fire is not a game you will...

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Like delicate white swans were they,
the white swans of a grand ballet -
ballerinas waiting in a row
underneath the candlelight’s soft glow.

But what are ballerinas with...

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"HOLDING HIS HAND"

*The Voice*
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?

"God's voice"
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down...

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In the narrow margin between life and death,
I feel as I'm walking a tightrope - but balancing.
I'm a portrayal of metaphors, 
illuminating like spring's moon,
who...

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A funny thing happened on the way to my hanging
Couldn't sleep the night before my head was banging
I was innocent of a crime that I...

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A Poet's Gift

A poet writes to share a secret depth 
Of feelings within their soulful breast.
They write to grasp onto immortality,
To be remembered beyond their...

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I wish to claim
My boyness
My yesterday sillyness
Innocent shyness
My crinkled nose grininess
That hide and seekiness
Spin the bottle 
kind of geekiness 

Getting caught 
My hand in the...

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She is soothing music,
but an unwritten script.

A silent movie,
but visually, cinematic elegance.

Infatuated lyrics thirst to
compose onto tones of her curves.

Her tongue is a sensual dance,
a...

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Vanished

the wild magic of this place;

this wilderness I now roam alone
as its lifeblood seeps 
into 
Afterlife

..my mournful howls
across time and distance
go unanswered -
Oh, how I...

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