Author: Michael Stoneburner

I used to do videos heaps when I was a kid. This big ass brick camcorder. We (My siblings and I) would lip sync to “Video Chats and Live Feeds”

The winds of change go through melike the hourglass and the sand, the wolf cries to the moonand I don’t know who I am. The “Winds of Change”

You are safe, my little one. You are here.You are breathing, little one. No need to fear.I’ve got you though my arms aren’t around you.Though “Our Song In Us”

I’m sitting here in a dark corner of the room beginning to write this out. It’s really setting the tone to how I feel right “Am I Worth Every Two Weeks?”

Though your name is sometimes lost,I slip to past and you are missed,though my eyes wander away from yours,you see in me, see for me. “Dementia”

A few years ago, I returned to writing and within a year I found myself expanding more and more with my social media accounts. They “A Writing Community”

‪Drop my tears baby blue, look at you in my arms holding tight to keep my fears tucked away every night. Sleep peacefully puppy brown, “Free Poetry – Holding”

I was twelve, the house was full of anger,I retreated to the yard where the air was thicker,the breeze was foreboding, the clouds were dark.Yet, “House without Warm and Rain”