Being there doesn’t mean I’m present. I exist only in words. I want to be transmuted fully to white page and ink.

Love flows like flowers, and grows like water. I’m so thirsty for romance I could drink a dozen roses.

Suddenly I remembered that laugh, it told a different story, our story.

Metaphor is a slippery eel, if it wasn’t for its shock I’d stick to the easy catch of prose.

Let your love flow where the beautiful things are and something beautiful will always come your way.

Take the blinders from your visiontake the padding from your earsand confess you’ve heard me crying and admit you’ve seen my tears.

A poem without metaphor is a gelding; useless to nightmares.

Yes You Are!Like the Blossoming rose,Like the Rays of hope.Like a deer in the forest,Like an athlete full of zest.Like a lamp in temple,Like the life feeling ample.Like the feel of the dawn,Like the grace...

My wife is a lovely leathery green, the blue-tongued lizard said;Her eyes are as red as bulldog ants, lurking in holes in her head;Her body is made of the speckled grass, a violet grows on...

If you wake up tired, you’ve been chasing dreams. If you go to bed tired, your making your dreams happen.

Poetry is ordinary language raised to the nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.

I can weave words together and create magic,it’s like knitting and crocheting words with pen and paper, some call it Poetry.

Every attempt to fix eternity is an escape from reality. I will be plaguing my days with moments and minutes. For ever is too far!

My silence knot is tied up in my hair; as if to keep my love out of my eyes. I cannot speak to one for whom i care. A hatpin serves as part of my...

Some who grow dull religious straight commenceAnd gain in morals what they lose in sense.

Cook was a captain of the powder-days When captains, you might have said, if you had been Fixed by their glittering stare, half-down the side, Or gaping at them up companionways, Were more like warlocks...

The life we’re given is on a thread, so wear it well.

I was born with my eyes turned inward.

Shelley’s servant”. Wasn’t that a wonderful gesture of humility by someonewho was such a great poet himself? And later, Bharatiyar had his own dasan, the poet Subburathinam, who tookthe pen name Bharathidasan. Subburathinam’s poetry inspired...

Cheapen words and they’ll cheapen you

Ultimately not one amongst usWill ever be denied that,The glimmer of a chance to shine.

You must take these poems as mirrors; for you know that the mirror has no form of itself, but rather reflects the face of anyone who looks in it. Just so a poem has no...

Be Visionary …

The poet knows that he speaks adequately, then, only when he speaks somewhat wildly.

Fear of joy is the darkest of captivities.

yo soy mi propio ángel y mi único demonio.

Maggunitanay ta, unya binanwagan sa bituon, / Latason ta ang hataas nga patag sa kagabhion.(Let us hold hands, and guided by the stars, / Let us tread the long pathway of the night.)

You darkness, that I come from,I love you more than all the firesthat fence in the world,for the fire makesa circle of light for everyone,and then no one outside learns of you.But the darkness pulls...

And this is what being an artist means, being a poet? To sacrifice yourself for your art, sacrifice your heart for your art, because it’s only through something broken that something beautiful can grow.

I wrote so meagerly to you. But what I couldn’t write swelled and swelled like an old-fashioned airship and drifted away at last through the night sky.

I strike the ground with the soles of my feet and life rises up my legs, spreads up my skeleton, takes possession of me, drives away distress and sweetens my memory. The world trembles.

I give you the end of a golden string,Only wind it into a ball,It will lead you in at Heaven’s gateBuilt in Jerusalem’s wall.

There have been times I’ve felt so much art in my soul I grew sick of artists.

Our story has been told,our song has been sung.You’re a road I’ve already traveled,and from it, I have moved on.”Already Traveled

…Negligible Senescence…

this is thy hour o soul, thy free flight into the wordless,away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lessondone,thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering thethemes thou lovest best,night, sleep, death and...

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,We people on the pavement looked at him:He was a gentleman from sole to crown,Clean favored, imperially slim.And he was always quietly arrayed,And he was always human when he talked;But...

So we found the end of our journey.So we stood, alive in the river of light,Among the creatures of light, creatures of light.

I miss you, I miss you at night, I can’t sleep without you anymore, I’m scared. Meet me in heaven.

At times, love is silent because of too much hurt or too much care. At all times,love is the strongest voice you can always rely on.

In school, I hated poetry – those skinny,Malnourished poems that professors love;The bad grammar and dirty words that catchIn the mouth like fishhooks, tear holes in speech.Pablo, your words are rain I run through,Grass I...

a happy birthdaythis evening, I sat by an open windowand read till the light was gone and the bookwas no more than a part of the darkness.I could easily have switched on a lamp,but I...

The adversary humbly cloaked in its fine smile ‘eyes devoid of kindness, speaking gentle its knife secretly hidden.

I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.

there are only so many thingsthat you can fix with your hands….What they don’t realize is I am not a thing to fix.

In The Sunset SkyThe sunset sky dazzling with the golden hues, Taking bow in brilliant sparkle of experienceIs it not a climax, of the story so far, that was today?Or is it building anticipation of...

A BlessingJust off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota,Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.And the eyes of those two Indian poniesDarken with kindness.They have come gladly out of the willowsTo welcome my friend and me.We...

A Strange Prayer:Dear Lord, I, the self searching illusion, has seen and experienced the outer world:relationships,success and failure,true friends, strangers and backbiters.I lived the different emotionsduring different seasons;I witnessed ups & downs,enjoyed love & hate,was...

Love is wind for the soul

Ideas must work through the brains and arms of men, or they are no better than dreams