I’ve written a dozen of poems, I’m sure I have, but posting them feels… rather odd. That’s the thing about posting your own collection of poems - the chill, the cringe, the what-ifs- it always keeps you second-guessing.
But I've learned that if Shakespeare never wrote his sonnets we'd never know of a certain young boy he loved.
If Virginia Woolf chose not to write her suicide letter we'd never know how much she suffered.
If Ada Limon never wrote her poems we'd not know the courage stored in Instructions on not giving up.
My point is, that no matter how small of a contribution it is, writing creates history. Literature connects us far back into an era we've never witnessed.
Life waits for no one, and nor does time, so here goes mine! Hope you enjoy these!
From one wannabe shrink to another
Dear reader, I’m not a shrink
but I’ve got advice,
I may not be older and wise,
but I’ve got my two cents.
I know you have your own,
It’s true they say that life is short,
There may be a heaven or hell,
maybe reincarnation, but who cares?
All you’ve got is now,
it’s never your past,
or your endless what-ifs,
though how real of a mask it wears.
Is it ever enough?
A bunch of raw cooked ideas,
in that pretty little head of yours,
When are you ever gonna come out,
of that rut, of that prison of yours?
Yesterday you took classes online,
today you're playing with clay,
tomorrow you'll hassle with a brush of paint,
and what of it? all of it? a waste of time?
Old Photographs
Frozen in time,
A picture of youth,
Never to leave the four corners,
Not even in your wildest dreams.
Oh, but only if you could know,
That you could escape,
That you already have,
You'd giggle a little bit more.
Dream Analysis
I dream of a river bank,
A red boat and a yellow boat,
Floating, waves crashing,
On your feet, and mine.
Rustling of leaves,
Tall bamboos,
Fire smoke,
And your smile.
I've not been here,
Yet I have,
Have you been here?
I ask, you nod.
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