Poetry and reflections on poems, collected in Benjamin Foskey’s journal.
I read it every morning and every night. The recruit laminated copy I carried everywhere is still somewhere upstate in New York, but the lessons …
My dad gave me a poem when I was 16. A poem that has since remained one of my guiding tenants and scripture through life. As I recall, 'twas a po…
Look. Don't touch, lest temptation's fire ignite, A gaze that lingers, yet refrains from the bite. Breathe deep, but shun the nose's common way, …
Time isn't just a clock ticking it's a place we move through, like walking down a hallway where all the rooms exist at once. Maybe fate isn't a f…
i’m somewhere past Rivendell boots cracked, heart louder than the wind. the road ain’t magic anymore… just mud, and stone, and the ring of my own…
What if today holds the answers to the prayers of ten years past- and I can’t even recognize it? I begged for peace, and then called it boredom. …
LOVE Oh, to love- or to be loved- what triumph that would be: for one soul to dance and set another free. What songs we'd sing, what laughter we'…
It claws, it clings, it rushes, it roars. It seeps through the cracks, it breaks through the doors. It carves out your chest, yet softens the sto…
It trickles, it tickles, fickle as an autumn leaf. It strikes at midnight, threading joy through grief. It gnashes and gnaws like baby piranha te…
Let it flow. Let it go. Every road begins below. Not with maps or path ready shoes but with the silence you refuse. The sunrise doesn’t beg to te…
