Spread the word
and spill the beans.
My bucket-list
is full of dreams.

Some are big,
some humbly small,
but they are all
aspirations to call.

We might suffer
disappointments,
we might suffer regrets;
and we shall always
meet doubts and threats.

I wanted to be a poetess
and a good mom too.
I wanted a world of justice,
that speaks but true.

But as it tends to forge
I find me a dreamer
with a bit of despair,
a modest human being
who dreads and dares;

I sense him come bounding like a stone
That skips the water when it is thrown,
Up to my side a companion of old,
I welcome him though my blood runs cold.

Thankful am I that he will not stay
Though I do not know how long the days
Just that my pet will stay close to my side,
Hiding the sun, let no warmth abide.

My black dog sits always close to me
No comfort he gives, No light to see,
Just cold grey clouds that block the sun,
Cast me down to the pit where despair does run.

Upon the Land of Imagery I land, Oh,
In search of endless mystery.
I pick its ripening fruits, to grow
With its seeds the poetry tree.

I've toured around for years its highs
For there's more ... a poets call,
Some fruits delight the tired eyes,
Some sing, some drawl and squall.

I've seen the cream, sour and sweet;
They trigger up tremendous arts.
Some soft and silky, they gently treat,
While others hard as stony hearts.

On Imagery Land go find me,
Painting pieces of poetry.

Like a traveler seeking the main highway,
In the depths of his mind, memories swirl and sway,
But unsure of when the path will come into view,
A person yearning to return to the life he once knew.

He longs for the familiar sights and sounds,
The comfort of routines and familiar grounds,
Yet the road ahead is shrouded in mist,
And the way back seems so far, so missed.