Behind an abandoned monastery
I came upon him,
the folds of his bronzed coat rusted,
half an arm kicked off by a rebel,
his tiny face weathered
from too many harsh Irish winters,
his soulful expression somehow mirroring
the country surrounding him —
troubled and weary,
yet exquisitely beautiful.
Always be a poet. Even in prose.
— Charles Baudelaire.
In essence I am a storyteller who writes poems. Put simply, I write the poems I want to read.[…]
A sequence of my poems has been published in a hardcover book entitled The Music of Leaving Poems by Tricia McCallum
More info…
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