This poem was inspired by Ananda Only and his story about his beloved brother. https://anandaonly.in/2017/08/28/there-are-always-songs-to-sing/ Your spirit is in my heart forever, Even on days
Snow has melted outside the windows. Puddles covered streets of St. Paul. The calendar shows that spring is here, but with you I’m feeling cold.
Hello all, I am happy to share that my poetry selection was published in a chapbook and is available on Amazon/Barnes &Noble. I genuinely hope
Oh dear Lord, hear me out Today, like no other day, I feel so lost. Like empty vase waiting for flowers Because the flowers got
Happy April, my readers! Thank you for inspiring me. Know that I look up to YOU.
I come to you in search for answers My heart, my body aches. There are no words to describe the flatness I feel inside my
Tranquility is what I need. Tranquility is what I’m after. To find a sense of peace, Collect the pieces of the life that shattered. Revival
Dear March, I have been waiting. Waiting for you to usher the long-waiting spring. I don’t mind windy weather and rapid changings, and last year
I never thought that I would ever write a piece like this; perhaps this comes with age, or maybe my heart has softened. Whatever it
To purchase a copy, click here: Amazon:https://www.amazon.com/dp/164952496X/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=9781649524966&qid=1614961437&sr=8-1 Barnes and Noble:https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/inconsiderate-bastard-tatiana-kerestesh/1138956562?ean=9781649524966
Remove the veil off your face And let your eyes see. How marvelous you are, my friend, How dear you are to me. You
On today’s day and over 20 years ago, I left my homeland for an adventurous journey for an opportunity and to find my purpose. This poem is to the man who shaped my life, whom I missed dearly, and who is always in my heart. My father. The photo posted here is the actual photo of my father.
I haven’t seen you for some time, and I have no desire. The time has quickly passed us by, like current passes through a wire.
Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who is better of them all? It’s me, it’s me, aristocrat. Born of an illegal- immigrant in 1946, in June,