Father. Academic Advisor. Musician. Writer. My real name is Jesse Balogh.
“Armpitumzel, Armpitumzel, throw down your armpit hair. Even though it’s slick and silky, I must make it all the way up there.”
By Rowan Finley 2 years ago in Poets
Dear Moon, Touch me with your moonlight, for just a moment, with all your might. Slam me with your moon ray, and there’s not a single thing you need to say.
May she pride herself in her inner beauty and not just her outer looks. May she see the best qualities in others and not the worst.
It is not cute when pen skips, it is annoying, but curls are fun!
unused construction materials lay in heap body feels the same
Andrea stood still as a Castlerigg stone in a field of goldenrod. Trilling a soft note into the quiet breeze, soon brilliantly colored birds landed on her arms gracefully.
The house is cluttered, and my soul starts to mutter. It’s mostly all her items, I want to help but feel frozen. I’m not sure where she wants it all,
At 11:07 She flew to Heaven She’s meeting the family at large Her joy complete As she sees and hears better No more worldly things to be her fetter
I’ve got it made, in the shade of you. Style for the extra smile, that we walk together, in life’s greatest and worst parts.
Quite a quick wonder Hummingbirds, lovemaking, sweet Until thunder boom
Gently sanding her arm and frail hand Over hospital bed, I stand Humming because it fills space Watching neck pulse and face
Here comes the train, through my stain glass window heart. The rise and fall of her chest is like the give and pull of gentle ocean waves.
