Sandra Feldman Poems

Sometimes,
A four lined poem
A quatrain,
As it is called
...

You can't make
A poet,
Nor force their
Felt Song.
...

Fly
Rise high,
Spiritual
Detonation
...

Our World today!
Fools fooling fools
And the rest
Of the Idiots,
...

Winter cometh,
A Chili, experience,
Without Hot Sauce!
...

We,
Mystery
Of all creation,
Not in a good way
...

In touch
With the devil,
They sign
Their secret pacts,
...

Memories
That come and go,
Lonely Past
They only know
...

Sharper
Than the point
Of a knife,
Are Citizens
...

In the World
Of the Mentally
Blind,
Only ignorance
...