You funny ole world. Are you dying or are you just being born? In Paris, the African women are walking boxes of crayons. Their clothes so vivid and beautiful –
Category: Poetry
I feel excited as I start to float I want the whole world to look at me to see that I can fly Free to go wherever the wind guides
I smell like the ocean I taste like the sea My folds are smooth Like the ripples of the ocean floor Formed like the sea.
My words come alive at night. Sometimes they blossom like a nascent flower, sometimes they scurry through my head like a frenzy of ants. curious lines so different from one
You’ll never know That I’m only here Because of you. I’ll never tell you that I live because of you. My mother, my brother My sister, my friends My father,
I walk along the shoreline, feel the ocean’s gentle but sprite waves wash over your feet and inhale the smell of the salty water, hear gulls flying overhead. The calm
A lion sleeps and twitches. A mystery book’s chapters unfurl From an ocean of blue-green And form knee high grass, blowing Through the breeze. Can the lion catch Prey after
Really look into his eyes, Down into the deepest depth. Of course, this is metaphorical. Just get away from him, then do your soul searching.
You believe that life is long, then you die you believe that after you die, your body sits in the ground But the living are ephemeral and their time is
Find comfort in the new.