"her constellations" 

Her constellations are bite-sized galaxies of feeling,  

each cluster a starfield guiding fingertips  

across cool stone beneath the hush of night air.  

“Lantern in the fog” becomes Polaris—  

steady beacon anchoring a mind adrift  

amid the distant hum of restless streets.  

Swipe, scroll, tap—  

three morning prayers in digital chord,...

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Academia Aetheris

(the celestial school of verse)

They came— not summoned, but stirred.

Poets born in the umbra of supernovae, 

dreaming in quatrains 

before they could form hands. 

Choristers of comet tails, 

scribes of auroras in decline.

Each carried a shimmer of that first interlude, 

the brief binding of Flame and Listening. 

Their lines bor...

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Through the eyes of a stranger,
I walk the crowded streets,
My thoughts hidden behind
A façade of indifference.
Always writing under breath
Each step the rhythm of a song

I listen for the murmurs,
The stories left half-told,
And with borrowed breath,
I weave their words into verse,
A silent chronicler,
Of lives intertwined.

Beneath the surface of each face,
A universe of fe...

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A known quantity bereft of quality;
a name of little beyond its letters,
by road’s shoulder perhaps guide

to openly weep a slippery slope
of once having known someone’s art
yet lay hold naught of their heart

eternally flowing river of kindnesses
shall meander, thoughts ever caress
even when words and faces now drift

a familiar feeling remains here still
years invested this regenera...

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It's made the charts at Amazon.co.uk! Top 4, could it rise up more?!

Help a fellow WOL poet out and get your own copy of The Writing Group.

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in its purest form
the simplest of 
possible affirmations
is to be loved in return

in similar manner
the most complex of
probable affirmations
is reciprocating like affection

in conclusion, then, 
it seems most apparent
to appreciate with reckless
abandon the air we breathe

for we build tomorrows 
on these simplest, most 
basic of molecules, our
humble bricks of being

whose...

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numbers do not the soul touch
or rouse from depths of reverie
whose shallow sepulchral beauty
surface deep revelations aplenty
plead with matrimonial vows
parchment scribbles & ceremonies
do not a marriage make and
neither will ice cream make us
any colder after calories kick in
poetry’s soul may ride its form
but it transcends empirical parts
its triumph: Pinocchio shedding his strings

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There is always a poem after this one; 
the understudy to today's centre stage: 

This poem however, is never unimportant, 
it is as individual as the poem that follows; 
many written poems have unwritten forbears- 
each poem is breathed and lived; rarely spoken. 

The panorama of this poem is found in one place – 
the window of its reader's imagination; 
so each poem is the beginning po...

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