Fish Story. A poem.
There are lots of people who constantly lie. This is nothing new, of course. This poem is about them. Continue reading Fish Story. A poem.
There are lots of people who constantly lie. This is nothing new, of course. This poem is about them. Continue reading Fish Story. A poem.
Another poetic experiment. Each line is a single word. This poem is metaphorical, in case you couldn’t guess. Continue reading Termites. A poem.
A poem about love and sacrifice. Can’t have one without the other. But at what price? Continue reading Styx. A poem.
Everything fades, in time. Especially memories. It’s funny how one person’s recollection, no matter how flawed, can become the new version of the truth…This poem is all about that. Continue reading Time. A poem.
I think I have fallen in love with blogging. Here is my ode to this magical and artistic writing form. Continue reading Blog. A poem.
Nobody said life was meant to be easy. It’s funny how someone can read something and only see what is on the surface. Poetry runs much deeper than that… Continue reading The Bed I Made. A poem.
I blame myself for a lot of things. Actually, I blame myself for everything that’s happened in my life. Here’s a poem about that. Continue reading Outlook. A poem.
These haiku are about my love of tabletop role playing games (RPGs), particularly Dungeons and Dragons (D&D). I loooooove RPGs. Continue reading D&D. A haiku tetralogy.
Love books? Sure you do, otherwise you wouldn’t be about to click on a poem called “Books”… Continue reading Books. A poem.
Despite what the picture shows, this poem is not about my passion for playing guitar. But if you want to take it that way, that’s up to you… Continue reading Consumed. A poem.
A poem about fatherhood and love for one’s son. π Continue reading Son. A poem.
I wrote this poem about a couple of old dogs (I’m one of them), who keep fighting with each other. Can’t we all just be friends? Not during a divorce, apparently. Continue reading Old Dogs. A poem.
I wrote this poem for someone I loved, who is lost in time, never to return. Continue reading Whovian Girl. A poem.
My life is currently reduced to boxes. Some day I’ll have a proper place to live and be able to unpack them. I’ll let you guess why I wrote this poem… Continue reading Boxes. A poem.
I often feel like a wandering spirit. People look through me as if I’m not there. I wrote this poem for them. Continue reading Ghostly. A poem.