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sometimes I write to dream while I'm awake. . .

     I am self-taught and unpublished. I've been writing poetry for most of my adult life, and sharing it on a personal website. I consider myself to be an intuitive writer, meaning, I write what I feel in that particular moment. the purpose of my writing is to establish a connection, and with that, a deeper understanding. here are some examples of my creative writing & poetry.


" The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

-robert frost 1874-1963

I walk this winding path

one more mile to go

I walk until my lungs freeze

I will breathe my life

into the things

I touch like leaves

I have one more song to sing

I raise my tender voice

until my words soar higher

beyond the thickening trees

I offer one more authentic gift

to give my healing love

until this heart aches

unto the end of

my sweet journey

fire and flowers

the legend of the phoenix has been told for thousands of years.
a beautiful bird who rises from ashes, reborn, with renewed strength
and power.

I believe we can rise and meet each and every day this way, if we
have a positive mindset. if we try our best.

phoenix opens her eyes,
bats her sooty lashes,
as flames erupt and engulf
the entire room

she rises and stands tall,
planting her feet firmly
phoenix shakes her head,
her fiery crown blazes

she counts to three
eyes closed, clears her mind
she is free to choose,
this is her world now

fanning the flames,
she collects herself
as she destroys
the pieces that don't fit

what remains is the ashes,
from the fire and flowers,
she is reborn each day
she is free to choose


these days what I miss most
is the comfort of a phone call.
a warm, friendly voice at the other end.
I miss the excitement & joy
of receiving a card or letter in the mail.
the weight of the envelope in my hand
as I carry it inside, gazing intently
at a handwritten note.
I'm missing the connection.
the honesty of intention.
these days, what I miss the most is kinship.

the waiting

sometimes you forget
what an oven is
and you burn your hand,
it hurts
when you're walking
and it feels like swimming
it's hard to think
when the ground is caving in
wise words escape you
like all the forgotten nights
when you lost sleep over
you couldn't keep; still
the thoughts are there,
the wondering, the waiting
sometimes feels like forever
the waiting stays the same
filling the space with
sometimes you forget it hurts
you don't know what to call this
but it feels like a reason to be

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