Category: poetry

  • Hope is Broken

    Hope is broken. It does not always shine. It comes and goes like wind, and when you reach out for it, it fades. Satan buries it beneath the earth so you must dig it out. He throws it in the sea so you will have to fish it back up,…

  • Three Questions

    Call me old fashioned, think it strange That when I see a man, I espy not his charm, For I’ve learned that man’s nature is not sacrifice Nor is his desire held in refrain. Call me strict, or perhaps too harsh When I scrutinize the men God puts in my…

  • Flowers on the Vine

    If I could describe our childhood,I’d say it beamed bright pumpkin orangeWith the soft smell of Ma’s homecooked pie.I can’t help but smile when I think ofThe way you bloomed in the light of spring. If I could describe your suffering,I’d call you a vibrant pumpkin rindWhose insides rot deep…