Author Until and her opinion on Copycats . . .

Author Until speaks about Writing...

My Audience: Thank you!

To United States and Portugal. Happy New Year!

Author Until opens up about her Imperfections...

Dreams _ Again by Tracy Hand

Dreams

  are not a Reality

Real

  is not Imaginary

Life

  is Real

To live It

  we must Dream

  we must transform our Dreams into Reality

So they never become Imaginary

                      Again!

My Note to Tracy Hand:
 

I had a very heartfelt conversation with you and it stirred up emotions of things you tried or thought you'd put to rest. It also reminded you of the dreams you wanted to pursue, but somewhere down the line you forgot about them, but now remembering you must put them to the fore front, and begin again. I can't wait to see you transform the rest of your "Dreams into Reality."

Thank you for sharing this poem with me and allowing me to share it with others. This poem is more than beautiful.

~Until...

A Verse That is Free - by Jason Fairhurst Wall

Right now,

I need a verse -

a verse that is free.

Free to feel

and free to roam.

Free to love and to spurn.

Free to make myself at home.

A verse free

to take any turn.

Free to take a path that's straight.

Free to feel

and free to hate.

I need a verse -

a verse that is free.

This freedom is

enough for me.

(c) 2014 

Finding Poetry By Rachel Benson (The Word Glutton)

I’ve pulled poetry out of the shatter of broken bottles

And in the threads of stained sheets

Found rhythm in bluesy rants

And on the needle of scratched records of sordid yesteryears

Yes, I’ve caught stories in winds blown from haggard sighs

And abandoned cries that sat idly by on the corners of notebooks

Waiting to be heard…and written

I caught words riding on the wings of brief hellos and forced goodbyes

My eyes have witnessed the prettiest poesy

In the ugliest ugly

I've learned that poetry lies between each scarring

Of blemishes and unwarranted hurt

Birthed from unrequited infatuations 

And grown from uncultivated seeds

I have heard spoken word spill through sealed lips

That couldn’t contain secrets

Yet they remained mysteries

Because the flow of poetry offers anonymity

Even in its revealing

I’ve stepped in whole verses

Sprinkled in the aftermath of cumulus storms

Causing poetry to stick to the bottom of my shoes

Putting pulse in my walk… making me able

Able to walk words onto the spread of life

Finding poetry has afforded me the privilege

To pick beauty from the devastations

And place it in the center of wreckages of busted bubbles

Finding poetry has proven the existence of something more

We find our equals in admittances

And utterances of truth

Finding poetry gives voices and lends hands

To the quiet and the helpless

Little girls find their youth and little boys find their chance

People find their hope

When reading or hearing their lives poeticized and memorized

By someone else who recognized their cries

And they never even knew that they were spotted

In the cracks and crevices of nothingness

But when you find poetry