We are born and we die, and in between, we live perfectly imperfect lives. This collection of poetry explores the shallowest and the deepest realms of human emotions in the most perfectly imperfect way.
Every copy of this book comes with a personalised dedication and a handwritten note. Price includes handling and shipping worldwide.
There it is, the first of my publications that will find its way to the Luxembourgish national library. Quite official. Preorder yours now. Ships on or around March 1st. (Also available on Amazon)
Each Saturday in February, Monty shares a prompt to create a Golden Shovel Poem from. I was a bit late for the first, only wrote something late at the last minute. But this time, I am early. Feel free to join in.
I stood in the storm, not the storm in my head, but the storm weather systems created for us. The wind blew my hair in every direction and whipped the rain into my face. It was cold and dark and loud; a little bit scary too. I raised my arms and looked up into the skin. Something happened in this storm. Not the storm raging outside, but the one inside. It felt cleansing. And despite the headache raging on, I smiled. I couldn’t stop. I am the storm.
One day, she will become quiet. She will not drop everything for a moment with him. One day, she will stop caring. One day. Maybe then he will understand what he’s lost and how much she mattered. One day.