Through the trees, opaque
billowy pillows, splash on
an azure canvas, sailing furiously,
beyond my view.
...
I move my pen across
the parchment, sometimes with
such precise strokes,
proceeding without
...
A dark gloomy scene
fills my window pane
a cool breeze blows
suggesting rain
...
The time was not right,
is it ever, you had
your life, I had mine,
infatuation, maybe, maybe love.
...
That fateful day in
September, fear surfaced
For a nation, once again.
...
fills my senses
browns, oranges, yellows
meld into the sky, a
back dropp for this
...
Bombarded by worries
of money and time
maybe my dream needs
to be put on hold
...
her silken fibers worn by the wind and rain
cling to her feeble shoulders a painted facial
tautness grainy as parchment screams for the sun’s
sweet rays her smile beams brightly clover among
...
Many years have past since
I’d been a gung-ho youth of fourteen
Vietnam had been a child-like fantasy of
glory and honor cradling me proudly
...
Nothing matters
when happiness alludes
not the environment
not peace not family not
...