Make yourself at home. Put your feet up. Grab your favorite beverage and prepare to enjoy the reads.




What is a poem?
I still don’t know.
In some ways,
I don’t care.
For me, it can be a phrasing of words
touching something inside
making me breathe a little deeper.
It can be anything,
an overheard snatch
of conversation,
a child’s ditty,
badly translated Japanese haiku,
formal verse
a sigh
a conglomeration
of unrelated words,
that suddenly make sense,
a baby's hiccup
raindrops sparkling on branches
after the storm
kitty's kaleidoscope eyes
snowflakes on my cheek
freshly made bed
fragrance of Jasmine, Geranium, Lavender
aroma of coffee,
even though I don't drink it
and, of course,
the taste of chocolate

It’s all poetry to me


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