Sunday, November 3, 2013

The Dance of Travel

Took a train-ride into Boston that inspired me to move.

Saw the landscape through the tree-line full of beauty and soft bloom.

Colors rich in reds and yellows, orange browns on green soft hills.

What an eyesight to behold my vision ~ thirsty, hungry for a thrill.

It reminded me that bridges are the crossings of the bold,

always timeless, always reaching through the passage and the old.

Farms and buildings made of bricks laid across the rails unraveled.

And with beauty and cloaked magic made me feel the dance of travel.


Sing a song to me at nighttime
when the moon is full and bright.

Sing of dreams with soft caresses
sing of silks and feathers' flight.

When you finish all your verses
reach and touch my tired shore.

Cause your songs enchant the lifeline
that keeps air inside my core.

Mind Graffiti


The colors that have splattered are 
the markings of my mind.

They are full of bright sharp edges
with soft circles at each line.

Single letters tell a story
each with bold and curvy strokes.

Sometimes loudly, sometimes softly
but each layered in the mold.

How I wish a pretty picture
could these images portray.

But instead, they are the markings
of a burst of cans array.

Have you ever painted over
walls that never seem to end?

It's impossible to phantom how
graffiti stays on sand.