My father’s son I am; I am hard to repress from a distance you’ll without doubt pick me out from a multitude even before you engage me before I open my mouth to speak.
When we were teens, less than 20 desperately innocent, full of wonder a word was rarely utter’d at dinner.
What’s a poem? Is it witty word play, phrases or sentences that are stripped prose meant to be insightful, arrayed in stanzas and verses, that at times its theme seem puzzling or incomprehensible to a reader? – Yes,…
Restlessly, relentlessly I roam in the dark unable to sleep, too excited by thoughts in my heart and head.