Beautiful one, you are more Beautiful than a Golden Sunrise.
You are more Sweeter than a whole bakery restaurant too.
You are the driving Sun warmth brushing against my face.
You are the fresh Pool of water that feeds the thirst of the thirsty.
You are everything that I always need and want as well.
There is none other that I would choose over you always.
You are the Fresh Fruit that fills my Hunger every time.
You are the sweet sound of a new born first cry too.
You are the touch of the warm breeze against my arm.

Where once my warrior soul reigned
Now I find it sadly lacking
Though it carried twice its weight in pain
Now the art is all that matters
I fall in raging winds
But never find my footing
And if this night is to end
First it must begin.
There is only room for understanding,
So I, tightly tethered to my essence
Find I am calmed
By poetry’s presence
No longer wilting
Words become my water
No longer melting
Nor walking meat to the slaughter
I begin with my father
And end with my daughter
In her eyes infinity
I see hope for eternity
But she is just a seedling
Formless fiction of my mind
Changing with my seasons
In angles I still hope to find
Allows these withered roots to grow again
******* greedily at the soil.
Hope helps me thrive, my friend
And gives me reason to toil

-Joshua Amos Graff 2011

To be in the age where dreams began
Smoke and mirrors, silver plates
Rotating presses
Books to be made
Page begat stage
Films to watch music to hear
Radio Waves
I am afraid
We have lost those days
Sacrificed our sense of wonder my dear
The awe of hope
The love we dared
If I could I would revisit there
Bringing back that childlike smile
I’ll take you there in a poem
Seeing our inner children
So once again we can know them

Anguish fills the heart and love is broken into pieces. The eyes glaze over and the tears flow freely. The ground is covered with the salty remnants of a broken heart as it grieves for the love that has been ripped away. Not all things are of human doing, sometimes the fates are cruel. In the instances when love is suddenly lost, the bereaved can only mourn what might have been and let tears fall until they become upon the ground like the rain of a cold and lonely day.