Some Poetry of mine...

Shrouded here in the darkness of night, I find myself standing…at a crossroad. 

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 Originated as a Short Story

I wrote this years ago for an idea I had surrounding that situation, a mystery savior or shrouded knight - certainly for the damsel he rushes forward to save. She addresses him - Milord knowing that he is a knight.  

Oh well 

The battle with Mental Injury

Wander lust... unsettled, unsure, curiosity baffled... unworthy of trust. 

Unable to stabilize, unable to grow.  Unable to see, 

what one should know.

I wrote this a long, long time ago, when I was still in love with my children's father. I knew if I just hung in there, he would see what he had in me. He never did - if he did it wasn't enough for him to stop what killed my love for him. I was 19 years old when I wrote this. Years before I became a novelist. 

 Poetry (from the Greek word poiesis, "making") is a form of literary art that uses aesthetic and often rhythmic[1][2][3] qualities of language to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, literal or surface-level meanings. Any particular instance of poetry is called a poem and is written by a poet.  

 Poetry (from the Greek word poiesis, "making") is a form of literary art that uses aesthetic and often rhythmic[1][2][3] qualities of language to evoke meanings in addition to, or in place of, literal or surface-level meanings. Any particular instance of poetry is called a poem and is written by a poet.