Winter in that city ripped the warmth from my soul.
All those faceless people with frozen hearts and minds,
Alive but not living, pushing… rushing…struggling
Like rats scuttling in and out of nameless places
Life there was for dreamers and only the young have
Any dreams left to give. There’s no inspiration
There for a man too old for imagination.
Not there among all those hurried, screaming masses
The stone is set
My die has been cast
What the future brings
Will slide into the past
No amount of want
Will ever make it stay
It will fade to memories
Of yesterday
At what point do I give up on my dreams
When do I know that my innovations
My poems or novels will not it seems
Live outside of my imagination
When should I realize that my brilliance
Is overblown desire; not artistry
They say I am showing my resilience
Not settling for my mediocrity
When will I understand that I’m lying
Thinking that there is someone who might care
When will it be alright to stop trying
Never! As long as you are there to share
You are too impatient
In your eager search for the now
You’ve left no time for reflection
On ‘the once was’ or the ‘what will be’
I will tell you to slow down and enjoy the ride
I know you will not listen
You will not listen to anyone
Just stop trying so hard
Let us wear out our life
Listening to the wind in the trees
Feel the summer warmth on our face
Breathe the coolness of the evening
Hear the music of nature drifting across open meadows
Smell the intoxicating scent of wild flowers
Opening their souls to worship the morning sun
I know that in your rush to reach
What you believe to be success
You will ignore it all
Until you realize that it was not worth it
I pity your journey
We watched the barefoot children in green yards dart through shadows, playing their childish games. We saw their innocents and we knew that…
They were not us
Through open doors and windows we saw them staring blankly at their flickering screens. They were sitting so close yet ignoring each other. Wishing…
They could be us
There was an old couple sitting on their front porch, fading from life. They smiled and waved, trying to remember a time when they knew…
How to be us
We pause for just a moment beneath the street lights glow, your hands in the pockets of my jeans and mine on your shoulders. Our souls touched and we were…
Happy to be us
Um Espaço de Reflexão e Evolução Através da Linguagem
Poetry, Stories, and Other Musings With Spilt Ink
If your dreams do not scare you, they’re not big enough – Ellen Johnson Sirleaf
Sharing my personal and professional life from the Philippines
Pen to paper
Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
embrace the magic
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Poems, Literature, Articles, Musings & Quotes Collection
Aspiring Poet & Shy Girl Tired of being Quiet
Create Your Own Happiness
Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre
Rhymes and Reasons for Every Season
Life is all about being curious, asking questions, and discovering your passion. And it can be fun!
...just a voice from the eastern Himalayan summits...
Nothing is immortal
Educación, reflexiones y cultura general.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
Almost Meaningful
Jerry Brotherton 