Bio by Self XXII
Her ways that wet the wind
in cloud drips close to clandestine
raindrops hidden in the grays of ghosts
where broken-hearted lovers
played hollow games of what if
or, worse what if NOT?
I high dressed the proud sun
in a plethora of gold
my lens produced its promise
of providence in the dust of dreams
that others left discarded.
When the gulls cawed
then the sea SAW
what it could never say.
The waves sang
their ancient song
of no surrender
again, again, again
eternally forgiving
there are things we
walk away from
that may never end.
ajs
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andy spaschak
I have been writing poetry for over forty years, Published in magazines, ezines, etc. I currently live in New Jersey as I recover from stage four throat cancer. I have not been able to speak for three years so my voice has become my poetry, photography, and guitar.
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