Obsidian

Here the dark hangs like ancient tapestries,
The dank rot of old woven wishes,
Fill nostrils with a stench of onyx air.

Forward

In hopes left from what will,
Pain comes from the knowing…

Obsidian

Here the dark hangs like ancient tapestries,
The dank rot of old woven wishes,
Fill nostrils with a stench of onyx air.

Haunted

At the dark end of a wayward street,
Atop a bare and lonely ,
its the old man’s mansion replete,
Bespoke in tendrilled ivy vest.

Flannel with Faith

Embracing imperfection with faith, flannel, & fresh air

JaZzArt en València

Faith saved us from the savages that we were, losing faith makes us savages again

Suicide Squeeze

Often Misunderstood

The Poetorium at Starlite

An Open Mic & Poetry Show

Rtistic

I speak my heart out.

Rum and Robots

We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive

I didn't have my glasses on....

A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.

Pete Springer

Passionate Teacher and Future Children's Author

saania2806.wordpress.com/

Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!

Poetry collection

Work by Rain Alchemist

Paul's Poetry Playground

It's Time to Play...