A poem began to form as I fell asleep,
I was too exhausted to write it down,
Instead it ebbed and flowed on by.
Even as unconsciousness took me,
I tried to grasp onto the stanzas,
While they withdrew inside the vault.
Continue reading “No Poem November”
All my grandparents have left,
Yet none of them are gone.
They left behind disease,
They left behind old age,
They left behind suff’ring.
Now it all starts anew,
Every spirit’s next step.
Continue reading “Souls Don’t Die | A Poem for my Grandparents”
You can feel the history,
It surrounds at ev’ry turn,
All starting with simple words,
Not a popular nickname,
Yet it truthfully remains,
As words cover The District,
Continue reading ““The City of Words””
Wonder if I truly need them,
Ponder what changes due to them,
Fonder each day passes without them,
Absconder each night staring at them.
Continue reading “Medicated | Living with Bipolar 2”
I know no existence without her,
She knows no other younger sister.
I was always right behind,
Endeavoring to match stride.
Continue reading “Into the Unknown with the Known”
Ve saw me wading through oblivion,
Ve dragged me away from the edge,
How could someone of intrinsic value,
Be found using online classified ads?
Continue reading “I Met my Best Friend on Craigslist”
Whenever August 1st comes around,
“It’s the beginning of Birthday Month!”
I’d play along to a certain extent,
More times than not I’d also tease,
“People only get one birthday,
No one gets an entire month!”
Continue reading “In Defense of “Birthday Month””
“Oh no, that stanza should be over there…”
Publishing poetry changes the words,
They no longer only belong to me,
Every reader has their own impression,
Clicking publish removes it from my control.
Continue reading “Poetry Doesn’t Have to be Perfect”
Whenever I’m asked to explain Buddhism,
My mind goes into immediate hyperdrive,
My soul scrambles to discover the right words,
How do I know which are the right words,
When I’m not an enlightened being?
How do I align with teachings of right speech,
When I must explain such a personal thing?
Continue reading ““What’s Buddhism?” | Eightfold Path: Right Speech”
A mother and her youngest child:
All of my firsts were all of her lasts.
I was the final offspring she nourished,
Both inside and outside of the womb.
I was the final bird to fly the nest,
Did she notice my broken wings?
Continue reading “My Mother, My Angel”