Poetry is of the soul, a journey taking us to the very depths of who we are as a human. It is the observation of the human condition and all that we aspire to be.

Poetry gives us hope in a chaotic world, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

The passion of poetry is in all of hearts. No matter if we are lovers or friends or just silhouettes in the night, poetry is ours from sunrise to sunset and all the time in between.
Poetry is the beat of the hearts of lovers everywhere. It is the language of humanity throughout the ages of mankind.
Poetry will being us closer to our human souls in the new age of mankind, no matter how near or far we are from one another.

Latest Posts

“A Sunset Journey”

Sailingto apromiseofgolden dreams,that willcome true,on ourglorious dayon earth. Asthe wavesthunder ashore,cleansingthe wanderingsouls,journeyingtowards amosaic sunsetof the romantic heart. Humanity’s despairis guidedby faith’s light,along the shoresof timeas we truly witnessa new horizon,heard loud and clear. . .heated by theexpectations of a new dawn. Timothy Michael DiVito c2019

“Solar Survivors”

Life is about the living,not about the end result.It is about the journey,not about the destination. It is about the hunger,not about the satisfaction.It is about the love,not about the materialism. Forgive us for our sins,for we know not what we do.As we strive for perfection,we are destroyed by our flaws. Forgive us for ourContinue reading ““Solar Survivors””

“On The Neon Avenue”

I have burnedfor my sins for so long,I don’t recognizemy face in the mirror. I have meltedinto the darkness of my burned soul,in this primordial oozeI swim to safety, but find none. Tarnished like acopper pot empty on a shelf,my luster disappeared. An abandoned building,my walls decayed like clay brickscrumbling roads of destiny. Taste notContinue reading ““On The Neon Avenue””

“Ghost Walking”

There behindthe dreams of life she stands,watchingmy every move. An aching needdeep within her once human heart,hauntinglyfamiliar her pale blue eyes are. Her movementsevoke romance in my memories,of whatused to be a passionate affair. Seeminglytransparent by the sun’s rays,an epiphanyto my hungering embrace. Missing her kiss,tasting it from the abyss,rememberingthe sweetness lingering longer. I holdContinue reading ““Ghost Walking””


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