Sometimes that which we fear strengthens our spirit and gives us a splash of hope.
Sometimes we wait too long for the forgiveness of our fathers.
Our flesh is a gift of laughter.
Sometimes memory is the only gift we give ourselves and the only hope we have of finding our way home.
Laughter is a gift for lovers.
Too much has been given and too much has been lost.
Story is a butterfly whose wings transport us to another world where we receive gifts that change who we are and who we want to be.
I feel the healing hands of God touch my heart and kiss my soul.
May your heart be lighter today.
May our hearts find hope in our touch.
Our stories are not new; yet, in the retelling we are reborn as heroes.
Service to others in their time of need is a privilege and an honor.
May your journey through life be vibrant and full of colorful rainbows.
So much is buried in our lives that we forget what we have learned.
What I really want is to be recognized as a writer; that someday, my poetry — this is an interesting paradox — would be taught in English classes; for my name, along with my poetry, to exist 500 years from now.
Tomorrow is a memory best forgotten.
What’s the use of writing poetry for your peers? I don’t think I should sell my poetry to other poets. If that’s who my audience is, I’m dead, I’m not going to make any money.
I write because I have to write; but I also write because there’s somebody out there, hopefully, who will read it.
God is taking a nap within my soul. I ponder whether to wake Him or not.
Hope is a rainbow of thought.
Many of the poets writing today are hung up on language and symbolism. If the poem does not have depth of meaning or fit a certain academic styles and standards, then it is not poetry. Poetry should relate to the man on the street who has to work for...
