Poetic Distillation

Humanity has pursued truth since antiquity; I wonder when truth acquired such ambiguity.

Poetry puts the rhythm into your days and, at night, wraps both your joys and sorrows in starlight.

A squeezed heart drops blood; it leaves an indelible stain like battle-churned mud.

Today, we don’t look in a pond and fall in love with our reflection, we look at ourselves on social media and hope that others will […]

Nothing comes from nothing, so Lear understood, yet Cordelia’s refusal to flatter him did him the world of good.

No doubt our bard, Bill, downed many a pint of beer on his way to becoming a playwright without peer.