Imagination Language Poems

The other day my friend asked me,
“What is life? Is it the days we live or the dreams we dream?”
Don’t know how I did that,...

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Here is a fraction of half the 
Examples which I call decoding.
Yeah decoding the Inglish language.
Hey now hear in this damnation
The Inglish dominance is learned...

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Someone came my house, suddenly. 
I had opened the door, bravely. 
Into the house, I was alone. 
It was not a person, that i have...

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My love language is in a different way,
You'll know that you're special to me,
When I start making you the subject of my poetry.

My love language...

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Poetry is a naturally simple speech
Poetry is a well-organized speech
It is the profound expression of the soul
The digital or verbal dialect of the heart
Poetry is...

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Language is a power
That can be used in many ways.
In a poem, subject matter is not the issue;
Depth of imagination
And its articulation into language is,
And...

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*** Poetry Ineffable ***

Today I happened to have come upon
a young woman reading her poetry
in a foreign language that I do not know,
but in her...

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I OPENED A DOOR IN THE UNIVERSE
AND FOUND MYSELF IN A WORLD
SURROUNDED BY WHAT APPEARS TO BE 
ENERGY OR SHALL WE SAY ENERGIES.
WAVE AFTER WAVE...

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I tell you of a friend who's so fond of everything french
She didn't call her a frenchie when she saw one on a bench 

Her...

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Sue sells shells.  She sells seashells by the seashore at
      "Sue's Seashell Shop".
      ...

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It Alway Goes Unnoticed
  
   The Wind

   The Wings 
 
   The Whys

 It Takes Its Toll in...

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Two Loves

No two loves are
quite the same;
I guess, that's why
it's love – if not, 
duplication would
be to blame...nothing
worth holding on-to. 


Humane Nature

Human Nature I have
long...

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Blurred in the sight
the fragments of light 
suspended in memory, 
blurring space and time!

Of a faded photograph 
dreams pressed into the pages 
of a book...

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Versus me 
(chilling as an outsize ego freezer)
profusely perspiring 
and heavily panting
experiencing one after another 
stuff whet dreams are made
frolicking in autumn mist
(think Maxfield Parrish...

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Over the river runs a hasty fright;
All our worry what became, becomes.
Instruments of time, un-tuning every night
Brooding with precision to a memory that numbs. ...

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