Category Archives: Life Poems

Sorrow

72 hours of
Lifeless motions
Filled with dispare.

This isnt me.

Swallowing my pride,
I grasped the light.

Never before
Have I needed
A crutch.

Declaring my sorrow,
Accepting my feat,

Can you see me?

Intoxicated

There you were
taunting me
with your
        glass bottle.

Your sharp taste
slices my throat.
Forcing me to dance
like a sad jester.
Between each gasp,
I i n h a l e your courage
leaving me numb.
Intoxicated with 
each touch,
I've gone too far.
A downward spiral
anchoring me to
the ocean floor.
Here I search
to be heard,
                        Are you listening?

Milestones

Conception
– Let’s skip this part.

Birth
– Tiny vulnerable infant not aware of the big, big world.

Childhood
– Laughter, games and cheer with hits of sorrow that stain my mind.

Teenage Rebellion
– Hard work, broken hearts alongside musical notes and well kept secrets.

College Years
– Strong willed, eager, independent responsible adult-ish with not one but two degrees, what mighty times they were.

Young Adulthood
– Uneasy, anxious and lost in a forest of uncertain watching others settle into their nest.

The rest is still being written….

I don’t know what will come after this young adulthood season. What I do know is that wherever I am, I will always be better than I was yesterday. Each day gives us an opportunity to fine tune ourselves to finally be the best of the best. As a wise man once said

Be the best you can be, until you can be better.

A wiseman

Mundane Labor

Wake up,
use the bathroom.

Open the blinds,
feed the cat — meow.

Clean the dishes,
take the trash out.

Get dressed for work,
pack a lunch.

Leave for work,
at 7 a.m.

Get home,
change clothes
leave for the gym.

Exercise,
go back home.

Shower,
Cook dinner.

Eat,
Do laundry.

Watch TV OR
scroll endlessly on
social media.

Set alarm,
charge phone,
lights out.

Repeat.

Featured Image.

Weep

The day earth fell,
it was gloomy.

Those dreadful words
I detested came true.

News slipped between
the mountain ridges.

I wept like a willow tree,
leaving water everywhere.

Time to piece together,
the man you were.


In the days coming, I’m sure I’ll write more but for now this poem will suffice. Friday night, my biological father passed away. Four days before my 24th birthday.

Room for Failure

Box by box,
I pack up expectations.

Move over
new followers,
improved writing,
increased exposure.

I need room.
Room for failure.

Einstein failed school,
yet changed physics.
E=mc

Emily Dickenson was ignored,
yet she wrote 1,800 poems.

Beethoven stopped practicing,
yet composed beloved symphonies.

Move over expectations,
failure is needing space.