Skip to main content

Erratically-tossed sequins

Erratically-tossed sequins
   Mark the places of night's stadium -
A netherworld of colored stones
   For the spry flights of cherubim -

And Jehovah - madman or genius -
   I cannot quite discern -
Overlays time upon us
   And I'm a lowly spectator.

One angel keeps an amethyst -
   Ignoring an agate - then ruby;
I do wonder if by chance
   There's a rock somewhere for me ...

Vales And Valleys

Is there  a dashing deity who shines,
on purpose for bliss amid surreal,
peaks of pure pleasance,
channel for adroit future memory,
desired goals are a bane or bonus,
depending on your vapoured vantage,
authentic rising to enchanted wings.
never known to droop on flight,
yet the cusp of dawn billowed rush hour,
a fetish or fixation to aspire toward,
valleys and vales of dream pursuit,
a chase that’s its own podium,
belated but never wholly blighted by,
palpitating path not confined to outskirt,
to gaze at one’s own footsteps is to exhale,

Unheard value

Being swayed by the ocean of thoughts, forged by her, She failed to realize the sadness it brought. Imperfect as she may seem, She is the personification of a weathered dream. Amid the world of endless noise, She plots her own serene peace. Though wrestling with her emotions, undone, She nonchalantly gazed to see which finally won. Seamlessly aiming toward the best, She failed to see life’s blessed values were lost. As she looked upon time’s quiet cost, She wandered blind through all she’d lost. She paused to see, Shadows softly fall, And a warm light whispers within.

I want to make you feel God's love

I want to make you feel
God's love
That he gave to us
Without even ask
We are also happy to receive
Some free God's love
Yes we are also his children
That he made with his holy hands
A long time ago
We are having a hard time
Surviving the heat
Also it is feeling sticky
The heat
During this Summer night
We are going to sleep
At midnight
Because we are not tired yet
And the next day
We will wake up
At 4:00 pm
Then we will work
For our God
Writing poems
Because we are
God's poet

I want to make you feel God's love

I want to make you feel
God's love
That he gave to us
Without even ask
We are also happy to receive
Some free God's love
Yes we are also his children
That he made with his holy hands
A long time ago
We are having a hard time
Surviving the heat
Also it is feeling sticky
The heat
During this Summer night
We are going to sleep
At midnight
Because we are not tired yet
And the next day
We will wake up
At 4:00 pm
Then we will work
For our God
Writing poems
Because we are
God's poet

Time heals all

It’s been 3 years now since you’ve been gone
Some days I’m weak other days I’m strong
But everyday I think of you
That’s one thing that I always do
I talk to you inside my head
And think of all the things you’ve said
Then I hear your voice as if you’re here
Your words to me seem oh so clear
Life wont stop it’s fast and it’s real
I keep going, time is the only way to heal
They say heal when really it’s just forgetting
More time in between your times of regretting
That feeling of raw emotion that slaps you in the face

The Savannah Girl

The little girl unfurls her dreams, Bringing forth the visions within her. Yet the night cloaks her dreams, Blurring her vision. Home was not a place of bliss; The world felt like a bleeding star, Gradually losing its brightness with each drop. Each day brought its share of struggles, lack, and deprivation. Her father was a peasant farmer, Labouring to put food on the table. But what becomes of the skills that prepare a child for tomorrow's demands? He was later incapacitated, Yet he held on until he was called to the beyond.

Draconian measures promise to hobble future SEPTA transit riders

one of whom would be
this married sexagenarian,
who recently acquired
his Senior Fare Card
courtesy Trump's big beautiful bill
dog days of summer
will experience big beautiful chill
videre licet courtesy
slated budget cuts
intimating a worse fate
than getting root canal,
whereby militant dentist
woulf blithely recount his days
as oil rig employee
when he/she uttered the phrase
let us drill baby drill
without anesthesia testing tolerance
of patient to withstand and weather
blistering pain threshold
proving laughable reputation

Subscribe to New Poems