James Wilson Poetry

The older I get The older I get My childhood I try never to forget I will forever stay learning from what my elders say Mentally in a vicious cycle my words will replay There are no goodbyes for my reprise You will never believe all that my mind conceives…

Click, Listen, and Enjoy Let me know what you think 07 James 1_17

Drops fall into crevices created from heated boulders of rain Abstain from thoughts, brought on in moments less than sane Warped and swapped brains w/ other neighbors in the same building No walls nor ceiling make it impossible for sealing Though we are all the same, we differ when externalities…

I think I understand At times the mind bends and sends imaging clouding the synergy within Of imagination bringing precipitation to an otherwise drought land Hands spread to the clouds hoping for rain to come down and sun to shine throughout I hope I understand Why the looking glass distorts…

Whispers wander out windows into whaling winds carrying them further than ever intended bandages to the soul could never erase scars though wounds have been since mended behind cerebral bars the thoughts descended hard souls have since melted felt every time leather tipped dominate comments pushed through pores like cracked…