Architect by trade, poet by heart.
The old sturgeon held his fishing pole
Sitting well away from the busy shoal
Right on the pond's mossy bed.
He swung it once, swung with might,... more »
Yours is wondrous Poetry
Laden with the ripe fruits of emotion,
The lustrous layers of your longing.
One should only very carefully tread... more »
A word of caution, my friend
For it pains me so to see you
Raising castles with flimsy sticks
And fanning the flames of hope... more »