I Used to Write Poetry Stories of Experiences

Life is a series of moments
That at the time feel like slow motion
But later seem to pass as fast as light years from the sun
I cannot regret moments, rather chances I passed up a moment to have
Out of fear, a moment that never happened...

Once again I'm tangled in my delicate web of dreams
The sky is blue, the grass is green
And nothing is what is seems
I hear what you're saying but don't understand
I feel your presence but prefer your hand
Slap me up violently, just a...

But no longer.

It started when I was in 8th grade, so I was 12 or 13 I guess. I was an avid, avid poetry writer. I kept hundreds of poems, stuck in a box. It started to slow down the more I was out partying, having relationships, and...

I used to write poetry all of the time, i have written my wife so many poems that its not funny, i have actually had a few that i submitted that got published.. for some reason or another i have lost my passion to do so.. The poetry I...

Ive been excluded and somewhat diluted in my thinkingmy heart along with my pride feels like its slowly fadingI'm feeling cold and alone with out you all these long nightsBeing with you was the best time in my life..Because I was only...

“The Girl Within”

Inside my body trembles, my heart is beating fast,

God help me to escape the memories of my past.

My mother smelled of alcohol, my Dad had left our home,

And no one saw the little girl...

I recently found this one while searching through an old notebook for a sheet of blank paper. It was written for a girl I was in love with at the time, who spurned my affections. lol
You are the one that got away
but you're not away...

I was drowning in my emotions and pain for years. Eventually I discovered poetry. A life saver in its own. I would write up to like 3 poems a day. I found a great poetry community online and it truly became my world. I opened up to some...

I wrote this during a particularly confusing and painful time in my life...my marriage was extremely wounded and slowly bleeding to death. It was 10 April 1988.
A lie can sometimes be so true
A happy song can become blue
A vow...

I wrote this for my friend Angela on 11 June 1988, we were 22 years old and she had a beautiful blonde haired, blue eyed baby daughter named Brittany. She came back to New Jersey from California to visit me. We were given our...

am i breathing? am i struggling to hold on another day?
am i dieing? is my soul breaking free to another plane?
its certainly not easy for you to plainly see
the decomposition of the man inside of me
here i come, i'm leaning over to...