the candle I lit to pray for your life. The plane. The ghost of the pilot. The air. Anointing
the dying flame with the juice of the sourest lemon, I doubly curse
the boss who sent you to Beijing. The TV camera
that captured my tears. With my sharpest needle, stabbing
the anointed flame, I triply curse
the one who should have gone before you. I beg, Please Lord, stop
my empty heart.
Connecting to a culture by traveling the world's shops, markets and global recipes
by Vikram Roy
Poetry, story and real life. Once soldier, busnessman, grandfather and Poet.
imagination is the key
Brian Marggraf, Author of Dream Brother: A Novel, Independent publishing advocate, New York City dweller
A topnotch WordPress.com site
by po'E.T. and the colors of pi
Beyond The Tetralemma
I want my life to be composed of first times
Part time actor, aspiring writer of poetry and prose and full-time idiot with a heart.
"You have to let your soul wander"
Musings On Life and Other Minutiae
Words of Wonder, Worry and Whimsy
Semantics of life.....
This site is a compilation of poetic pieces written under the influence of life,pain, and good energy
what if poems could be symphonies, and people their orchestra?
Rose Auslander 
That last line just brought the poem all the more home to me . . .please stop my empty heart.
The candles have all
gone out and my tears
stopped flowing
better to burn and
pour out
then to have my heart
become an appliqué
inside me.