Military men that can keep a secret are the true heroes. No matter how severely they are tortured, they still won’t divulge the country’s secrets. They deserve every medal that can be h...
The Little Warrior He put down his toys for a rifle Given to him from a rebel To the little boy who didn’t care What regime overthrows what regime
To judge the whole solely by the surface of it is like measuring the boundless universe by the depth of the clouds. If the storm shakes the leaves of the trees, the universe still rema...
Melody with torches blazing, scarlet flames in the wake, feathery wheels rolling, aerial tires circling the air, supple engines grinding,
Heroes of the twenty first century Blessed with their God given tale… Standing out amongst the crowd, Slaves of the impatient public dem… Geniuses toiling at the laboratory…
The Betrayal Friendships and cathedrals Built with earnest intent From the ground up to The very highest peak
Beneath the floors of the earth, down below Davy Jones’s locker where inferno fires rage, stoked by the hands of the beast in the house of the tempest,
Caught Up Of quiet lullabies I do thee sing Peace on earth from the heavens br… Whispering sounds from gentle lips Like fairies dancing to a lunar ec…
Something was floating out in the… an object never seen or heard befo… getting closer as the sound got lo… until it stopped while still suspe… I heard it breathing inside a larg…
Sea of dreams of liquid glass, infusing the real with the unreal, the quixotic with the mundane, a journey into the imaginary, waters painted with an aquatic blu…
The black sun stripped naked of its flamboyant costume with its yellow glowing that paraded across the firmament and marched to the drums of the da…
Mother Nature and her mutable moo… as in a season of many different m… harsh and placid, hot and cold, snowy and steamy, quiet and bold, she swings her mood to the season’…
Orchestral string players, devoted… placing it in high regard, lovers of teamwork, fraternal harm… one music family undivided, each supported by the other,
As the old man was walking along a mountain path, he came upon a stone. He picked it up and started talking to it. “I see you lying here with your face to the sun. Was your body always...
Poetry, My Love The story has no plot or ending It runs rampant through the pages It is oblivious to informative tho… But an ode to the love of words