What if poets are prophets–the mouthpiece of gods? And the songwriter pens as a spirit nods To the beat of a rhythm from other worlds In the womb of creation beyond Is all art but the cry of a mockingbird To a song that the heavens have sung? Can a man be the author or … Continue reading Mockingbird Moon
It was one of those balmy southern afternoons, when sprawled in the park with my face to the sky, this piece of free verse was inspired. My drifting mind and glutted senses turned as they often do, to somewhat ontological musings (for lack of a better term). And in spite of my finite bewilderment, these … Continue reading Contemplating Clouds
