I was not here
You never saw me We never spoke You never told me in spring That you don’t I am alone This never happened I never did this I can’t give what I don’t own I never will be there Maybe you will But I shall not And I don’t care
People who don’t want to admit
In my jealousy and laziness What I want to be And when What do I find? That I can one day! But never will Because I don't move Why?
Life is passing, but are we there yet?
The cutest of all One little girl And two older boys All action Swirl winds and storm Roaming around The small kingdom Three purest souls The wonders of life Make you wonder About your own How to protect them From harms of life Feeling helpless My heart like foam They will be here Soon my wonders Lots of trouble And joy at home
My sister and parents visiting, bringing with them her three children, the joys of our life.
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with eager feet, Until it joins some larger way Where many paths and errands meet, And whither then? I cannot say.
One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king.
They call me a spider-like poet
spinning a web of poetic threads. Each golden fiber becomes a phase. Each finger like spinneret weaves gracefully cross keyboard floor. They call me a spider-like poet. Each poem from hub of heart. Each woven vision calls to readers eyes. But worry not, my creative lattice of poem will not end your life. Just get you stuck for a while as you sway inside poetic song.
Inspired by Cisco James Haiku Fatal Traps Thanks