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Welcome to my poetry site.
The poet Robert Frost once said, "A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words." And to quote the poet Carl Sandburg, "I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself." Both these thoughts sum up my feelings about my poetry. Some of my poems are from my life experiences, some are works of fiction ("a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness"), and some, well, I have no idea where they came from.
A myriad
of sounds invades my dreams,
as my mind tumbles in sweet confusion,
The smoky
whistle of a train winding through the valley,
each shrilling burst growing ever louder
as it approaches the crossings.
Birds
greeting each other with sounds of mass
confusion,
while every now and then a raven complains about the
noise.
The
curtain of traffic; humming; hypnotic; steady;
until it becomes unnoticeable,
blending into the very fabric of the approaching
day.
Then my
weary conscience gives notice to rays of light,
bouncing from wall to ceiling,
then back to wall and coming to rest
upon a mind too tired and groggy to
comprehend.
I try to
fight back, but the sensations overwhelm me,
and I awake to face another day.