i gave up too soon

I was making it My dream was working I had mojo then wanting to live from poems that came endlessly I bet my early years on writing Saw many reading and buying the books in bookstores, card shops and college stores Letters arrived almost daily sharing poems and including photos Ten books in stores and more waiting

I should have listened to you then

how was I to know that one day I would call you on the phone and you would no longer answer?       you were always there to talk with to visit how was I to know that your time here was about to end?     If I could do it over I would take

i am someone who listens

Thanks for dropping by Don’t give up your dreams I put dreams in the attic and they are still there My dream was to be a poet living from my poetry and I did for awhile it’s been years here is the good news. . . I’m picking up my pen and beginning again hang in

regrets

I can’t let my yesterdays darken my life and thoughts I am not the same person  God, please forgive me as I forgive others I am broken striving to be holy

lighthouse

i leave the lamp on next to my bed i turn music on the lamp and music are my lighthouse  there is no body to see no body to call lighthouse, be my friend tonight

I am broken but trying to be holy

I am broken into many pieces. I am not the same person I was as a child, as a student, or as a friend.  I relate and expect differently today than yesterday.  Inside, I am trying to be holy in my own way.