- a haiku inspired by the thought process of Johnny Jr, my amazing four-year old!

Everything can be
Solved by the construction of
Underground rainbows

night's shadow

she walks carefully
into night's shadow

the darkness will not catch up
if she falls asleep quickly

she allows her head to sink
with a quick desperation
into her pillow

eyelids squeezed close

to forget the dusty, broken shelves
that remain uncleaned and in disrepair

she tries to pretend
that she doesn't care...
not enough to move ahead
but something about
a building that smells like a sewer
makes her feel a bit dead

a bit filled with a vague dread

in the morning, she will rise
with sun, and breathe in the dawn
and know that life is beautiful

and her beauty and her life is not vague,
is not tarnished by her environment,

she will rise like the sun
she will overcome

haiku - winning!

To win this day, I'll
Hold your hand and we will walk
to the finish line

everything you do matters

the present is a
result of tiny moments
that come before it

haiku

Be the unicorn
That rides the rainbow straight up
'Till you reach the stars

sometimes spring

the sky sometimes
is too clear in spring
not muffled by dusty orange
autumn leaves

or covered by the pure white flakes
of cold winter morning

spring is naked
it blooms unabashed
there is nowhere to hide

in summer the chaos,
the fireworks, a barbecue
with your neighbor

it is easy
to forget yourself in summer

not in spring
it is real, fresh ... new
it is the same
as the other seasons
except it does not
hesitate
to tell the truth

the earth and me...

ten words
a few sentences later...
a poem to change minds,
alter the course
of today's space and
time continuum

the earth is my vessel
the ground my chair
my feet the link to
the core vibrations
that may lead
to the invention
of the time machine

finally

why I write...

sometimes I stumble
over the spoken word

I don't (often) scream
in public

because
I want to be heard
but don't
always speak

because I hope you
will hear

so that you know
I wish you were here

because I want
to read what you have written
so we can all share
in this human condition

why i write

i am a writer
because I breathe syllables
and devour words

word stream 1

you want to be the best 

sometimes you can be happy existing as you are

a piece of relevance, a part of something - this still ground,

that matters, that moves someone’s world,

that changes the course of someone else's life.

There is no purpose greater or lesser than yours: all purposes,

all people are built with the same blood and bones.

Our purpose is derived from somewhere up in the stars,

and we are able to reach it once we believe.

where you are

books find you
in darkness
in light
in the corner alone
sipping tea
as you search for a friend
and peer out the window
of the coffee shop
wondering about what
else awaits you today...
in five years

the right book,
a mentor, a guide,
a friend

a book finds you
where you are

with you in the world

imperfect nature
becomes the beautiful world
because you are here

a casual disaster

she is the girl that steps lightly
into the fire
with paper shoes
knowing that she'll burn
but not realizing that
she is actually in flames

to hold a book

a scribbled on page
corner torn, smudged with coffee
tangible, alive

when

there is no when
that will take yesterday away
or give back missed time

and so I am flame that
moves forward, stays lit
despite the wind
at my back

ahead i see
the your memory,
shattered stained glass
remnants that will
always be pieces
in my pockets

i carry you

ladybug watcher

when snow falls upon
spring's eager sprouts and blossoms
ladybugs linger
under its cotton blanket
when it's safe, signal the bees

word and pencil

 the written word

  is a car that moves you
  a plane that allows your voice to fly
  a boat you can float around in
  a field where you rest and stare at the sky
  a place for thoughts you are afraid to say

a pencil

  has the power to move your hand, change your mind
  is  a good friend, sometimes a weapon,
  an important device to tell the world your thoughts

write them on a wall
in a stall
by a trail
inside a pail
send an SOS
or a love letter
words, they do
make us better

not quite a haiku

a sentence becomes

a picture when you keep typing

'till you see things differently

another poem about a circle

when the road bends
the curve creates a path
that circles around fate
and ends at destiny

it all depends on the way you drive

permanent marker

he is indelible ink, rudely scribbled without a thought
of his surroundings

that covers me
from top to bottom

i pretend i am his victim
or that he is mine

there are some things
that never go away
with time

a poem I found (found words and jumbled ideas insprited by "Dogs are from Jupiter" by Charles Schulz)

Dogs are from Jupiter by Charles Schulz
and so I found this:

birds are superior
being above us and all

cats and dogs can
sometimes get along
as long as they
don't discuss religion

dogs are happy
and birds don't wonder

it is best to
love what you do
devote yourself
to someone
and know
who is actually
in charge

why my house isn't clean

a mess
creates itself
when my things rebel

like teenagers
who refuse to fit in

life and death

On your first day
they say to make a good impression
and always make sure
to wear clean underwear
because it could be your last

tiny poem about life's journey

the end is
an illusion
and so is the start

it is most important
to travel
with your heart