Biography of Gero Lorna
At the age of nine I experienced something that no child should ever endure. It was at that time I discovered my gift for writing.
I am the only girl in my family with five brothers. My father died when I was thirteen years old and my mother has been my rock. She has inspired many of my writings.
I am the mother of a beautiful little girl who has also inspired my new outlook on life.
Like many, I write about what I feel and experience and this is my gift to the world.
This is my story.
Gero Lorna Poems
The sound of laughter rings in my ears as I sit and think about you. We never spent much time together, but my love for you was true.
My heart is full of anger and hate, yet I love. I cry myself to sleep at night, yet I am happy.
I never thought this day would ever come so soon. For me to say goodbye to the person,
I apologize for what I said the other day when I made you cry. I apologize for hiding the truth and telling you that lie
You think your're slick sneaking behind my back with that trick. Your indiscretion I find
To That Black Man
We love you even though sometimes you don’t deserve it. We are your friends, your sisters, your girlfriends, your wives.
I gave to you, all my love with every breath I took. You gave to me with all your anger your right and left hook.
If I Should Leave You
A day will come when a personal call for me is heard. A day when the clouds in the sky stop passing
Yesterday I was in love. Today I question what being in love really means. I see couples walking hand-in-hand, smiling. They appear
Now I Know Why
I watched you when I was a little girl. You would drink contantly. Today it puzzles me about how I hate to drink.
Longing To Be Loved
I trusted you as I have not trusted anyone. I confess to you how I felt and you in return led me to believe you felt the same.
A gathering of many woman, men, children. A spot where they come to reflect, cry, or share
Lost in the wilderness on a dark night. You try to find a opening where there is light.
Getting Over You
Getting over you has been the hardest thing I had to do. You are what fairy tales call “a dream come true.”
You're standing there in front of
my classroom window.
I remember seeing you two weeks
ago, full of beautifully colored leaves.
And today you're almost
naked with only a few barely
hanging on. The trees beside you are
swaying in the wind, but you stand firm