The morning is cold, the sun is shining
my curtains stuck to the window frame
A blind man walks alone in the cold on a New York street
It seems as uneasy,
as the scattered flurries become breezy.

The cars honk for no reason:
A little Morning fog, then blustery winds whistles
Like the Sea Island hurricane, outside my window pane
  blind men walk alone in the cold on a New York street

I saw a squirrel jumped on top of the neighbor’s fence:
Running along the top, in search of its hidden den
What a lovely view from my second floor window
Its morning the sun is shining, cold breeze came
down from the mountains so cold
While the earth is constantly slowing down

Participating businesses pulled out all
the stops to attract passersby  around this town
A blind man walks alone in the cold on a New York street.
running errands

I want to write a poem that creates a chilling atmosphere
While orchestrating sound,
with the feeling of rhythm and blues
I want to write a poem about the unknown poets,
the ones who never lived long enough
to see their work published,
I always look to the unknown poets for inspiration
Especially the poet who wrote
“Live only for today, for tomorrow may never come”
I suppose his tomorrows weren't in the cards
I supposed he had to be a pig farmer
Deep within he knew his pigs was to be tomorrow's bacon

There’s always hope for all kind, of poems to come to light
I want to write a poem about natural beauty, and let the world
Know that it’s alright to go natural, without all the heavy makeup
I just want to write a poem, no one ever thought of writing
And that poem is all about me.

Standing before her
on one foot,
as though surveying
a Renoir,
he is overwhelmed by splashes
of red from her nails,
her lips.
Shifting to level
he is entranced
by her blue, twinkling eyes,

His gaze is one of awe.
Uncritical he hears
her hair sweep
across her shoulder,
as rustling wind blown
across West Texas
fields of barley.

Her words
cool his bare toes
as though dipped in
Box Elder creek’ s flow through
rocks, eddies and fallen limbs.

Her moves
have the grace of cirrus skies,
he thinks
this is my picnic spot,
my settling spot
fit to build a cabin.

Then he knows,
love is here.

I look for words in the dark,
My thoughts were trigger by you
My Island soul knows no malice, until
negative thinking roams around in my head
It defines who I am, so I became the poem
And the poem became my affinity
to the nature of poetry
Fire bun, fire bun
Blaze dem Jah, purge dem ya hayed!

They came to my Island to feel
the warmth of the sunshine
as for me I visited a very difficult country
to become its shadow
I look for words in the dark:
My Island soul knows no malice
Only kinship with all life

Mr. hourglass
Why didn’t you stand by me?
I realize now that I was hardly alone in my naivety
during my youthful days

I remember
my curvy shape
my long slender legs,
The stride of my step as I sway along
the sandy beach of clover bay

I felt
the misty spray bounce off the sea and bathe me
within in that frame of time
my mind was free
from all negativity

  I reflect back on the years of my youth
I am so smitten by the truth
Oh! How I long for those wonder years
Without the regrets, the tears
I dread all futuristic journeys
That led me so far away from you.
Mirror of my past
this girl before you
Have lost her way

You know that your are awesome when the fellows whistle at you
However, you know you got it going on. When a blind man say to you honey
“Honey your perfume says a lot about you: you speak volume. Quote :Annie Lander