A Poets Poetic Diary

I was born in Oregon and by the age of eleven I had the federal Bureau of Investigation searching for me with an All Points Bulletin. I was sent to my first correctional institution at twelve. I am the only person that was given the opportunity to go to college from an Oregon Juvenile correctional facility and finish one year of college. I have been to three different colleges so many times I cannot count, but finally finished in 2011 with my masters degree. I started writing poetry at the age of 12 and have continued all my life and my poems say it all: “Poor Rose” Withered flower, shrivels with grace. Last of its essence, escapes from taste. Hidden from touch, are the tears a rose cries. Then fades away, she will shrivel and die. Wo pretty rose, death stalks real. And there’s no one to hear you, or the pain you feel. Life’s based on death, on land and in seas. And only man, is heard on his knees. Only man has God, to hear his cries. To judge his soul, to live or to die. Poor child of life, young flower in bloom. Your soul or flesh, is already doomed. Empty of loves nourishment, each peddle falls. Nature’s teardrops, come in the fall. Sweet Dreams As I sort through the loss, in the shadows of the clouds I am under. Blinded by the lightning, deafened by the thunder. I miss your soft whispers, which cause me to cry. Into the pillows where I lie, in my sweet dreams. When I think of my sorrow, at a world of despair. A depression that keeps me yearning, for you to even care. That the radiance of your light, reflects of the tears I cry. I run to the lies, of my sweet dreams. Bewildered and afraid, I can't stand the loss. The pain that's pushing me, towards a line I can't cross. I know all heavens aware, your loves not there. So I run to lie. closing my eyes to the lies of my sweet sweet dreams. http://poetsdiary.com/
Updated 26-Nov-2012