Inside Out Horses riding the jockeys, cars on people Imagination or real, is hard to tell. This weirdly crazy cat, who will bravely bell? The neck looks fine from the outside, or not. The thyroid gland wears an under-active tie…
Category: Poetry
The Black and White Poem
The Black and White Poem The pearly white sun dripped inky black paint My world was a pitch-dark theatre An epic cinematic disaster The deafening screams grew quietly faint Some viewers trailed in with muddy feet Soiling…
The Middle Child!
Middle children are always the quietest. They don’t begin that way, but Circumstances, make them so. The older ones hog all the limelight. The younger ones command all the love. The middle child is confused. Should she make…
A Poetic Story.
When I wrote this story, I felt it needed something more. The characters and dialogues were nice but I wanted more than nice, I wanted extraordinary! Wanted my story to sing at the top of its voice and express the…
I Walk With Invisible People
I walk with invisible people While out walking in the park I see All those who have passed by me The spirit world envelopes me All my departed loved ones I see I follow my…
Bruised Psyche
Occasionally I am all alone And I kind of prefer it that way I don’t have to pretend to be nice I can be as nasty as I may. When I desire some company, I hold conversations with…
Abstract Poem
What is abstract imagery? Is it when I drown in the dark depths of the ocean of grief? Or when the frolicking waves dance with my ecstasy? Do I let my emotions ebb and flow like the tides? Can the…
Full House
Full House A full house lives in me Happiness, jubilation, exhilaration reside In every corner A bold house lives in me Courage, bravery, drive the foundation it’s built on A loving house lives in me Affection, adoration, charm envelop all…
Empty House
An empty house lives in me. Morbid, maudlin musings of my muddled mind filter through its sheer curtains A lonely house lives in me Sheer isolation and desperation Delude Its only occupant A Bruised house lives in me The wounds…
Writers or Magicians?
What is poetry? Outpourings of emotions Or is it something else? Can you solve this mystery? Writers are funny beings I don’t mean jolly, jovial In their heads some things, feel wrong and abnormal They are doomed either…
Weirdly Vibrant
Today we had a major fight He didn’t like the way I poured, washing liquid in the machine. He knows I never measure, ever So what was it really about? He got out of bed the wrong side?…