Holiday Murder Poems

It was a cool, overcast and windy Sunday afternoon in March 2014. We were about 50 miles from Paris, at my Grandmère’s (grandmother’s) farm. She...

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In the confusion 
so confounding, A Confliction, everyone’s conviction - to voice, to reason,

and 

nothing 

changes.


A man was murdered today in the streets,
Tomorrow, next week,...

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Following down the sidewalks
Watching from my backyard,
Everywhere I go, he stalks
Waiting to catch me off guard

Even in the safest places
My town, my school, my home,
The...

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when autumn’s last but long exhale
left mists of winter in its trail
her thoughts turned to the past to look
at greenway and the paths she took
where...

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1.They are doing it to release three suspects. 
2.Judge was on Holiday to give a chance to Link judge 
to release the three main suspects....

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When I was young,                     ...

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In the Pocket


For years Nana begged for a holiday 
But pop's only passion was Faraday
He failed to do the math
Created a psychopath
She smirked, "Give my...

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Each morning I took the train to work,  
each evening I took the train back home. 
Each way we went through a long dark...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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On a clear crisp morning
All was quiet and still
Suddenly without warning
A scream that will make you ill
The house lit up like Blackpool
And all around was...

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My friend, how did he go so wrong?
Funny and jovial, was he, as happy as one can be.
Then, Paul shot his wife to death, mercilessly,...

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The Bright Lights

Her hair is snow-white, 
but it was not always so. 
It was black, like the night. 
It was deep in color, 
near as...

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Lay Down Be Still

I am not responsible, 
for what happened to you. 
You are accountable;
to what happened to me. 
That was and is still a...

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Freedom's Last Cry

I do not agree...
with your personal views, 
and prefer to avoid;
seeing them, 
hearing them, 
reading them. 

It was just a choice, 
not a...

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Dark Times

Times we celebrate, to be who we are not. 
Bleak times, diseased remembrances. 
Why?
You know.
You know because deep inside…

You have hid under a blanket...

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