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Month: April 2011

Crippling Butterflies

What are these butterfliesThat emerge like summer skiesWhen you are near?What is that pleasant songLike a chorused throngPulsating in my ear?How do you always knowExactly when to show–And when to disappear?How did you make me smile againWhen I was determined to commandA better life without you here? What is this thing you do to me?Please explain this weaknessThat always flows up over me.This crippling, enigmatic energyThat ripples all through meWhat is this magic you workThat renders me powerlessCeasing to count the hours asWe laugh and sing and cheerHow, how, HOW???You… Read more Crippling Butterflies

Blooming Tulip

Lovely blooming tulipTell me a taleOf witches, kings and princesAnd singing nightingalesLovely blooming tulipWhat of love do you know?That first sighting and true love’s kissAnd landscapes of pure white snow At times blooming tulip, you remain closedNever emerging fullyFrom your blanket of ice and snowHow do you know when to be guardedAnd when to let the light in?When to be open and share the beauty within? Oh lovely tulipPlease tell me a storyOf rescued princesses and valiant knightsBasking in battle and gloryPretty blooming tulipHelp me understandHow brave knight know a… Read more Blooming Tulip

The Believer

You’ve said ‘I love you’ a million timesAnd a million times I believed youA hint of doubt resonated insideBut heart convinced mind that we needed youWith a heavy heart and burdened mindWe plodded forth with our deceiverAnd now at the end of this lonely roadWe find a dead endAnd you too busy to meet us here either Something as simple as a phone callOddly holds so much weightAnd to think that peace of mind in the wee hours of the nightWas something I used to forsakeMost of my adult life… Read more The Believer

National Poetry Month

Even though my pending release this coming spring is a novel, I got my start in poetry.  The many scholars I’ve encountered in my years as a writer–educators and professionals alike–have all assured me what I do is not poetry; it is in fact prose.  Poetry, by definition, follows specific, ordered patterns of syllables and verse.  What I write has no pattern, thus classifying it as “free verse” or prose. Regardless of what one calls it, expression is why a writer tackles any of these forms.  On many occasions, I… Read more National Poetry Month