I am 58 years old. I have two grown children and 3 grand daughters. I am a widow I lost my husband after 32 years of marriage to cancer 5 years ago. It was the pain of that loss that made me turn to poetry. I write all kinds of poetry. My biggest occupation is finding an idea I can turn into a poem . I have written 1000 poems and still writing.
YOUR COFFEE MUG still sits where you left it, half-empty, atop your favorite porcelain, brim smudged with a curious combination of dried froth and pink lipstick. It’s my little testimony, you know, to a life well led and a union
It is said to have goodness, It could be enjoyed with or without sweetness. Having coffee is the time, To discuss issues which are prime. Watching children play, Or granny flaunting the pot she made out of clay. Putting a
A solitary moon rises, behind the seven veils. unattended by stars and clouds, between yes and no, desiring nothing. turns back through the centuries. The religion to kill, refuses to stare at the tainted fatality. lying sprawled on the burdened
The aroma of cappuccino, Tantalizes my soul, Reverberates through a memory, And resonates in my mind. A cup of coffee brews, Freshens up the mind, igniting a spark, To fall in love with it. A kiss of the cup, It