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Forgotten Treasure...

A collection of poems and short stories. The poetry is inspired by emotions. Anger, joy, love and spirituality all find their way out in them. When emotion drives the pen, the result is not just written words, but small sections of life. Every writer gives a piece of himself or herself when they write. In fictional work it is a piece of their imagination, in factual work, it is a piece of their knowledge. However, poetry is different. A poet gives a piece of their heart, their soul. A poet shares a piece of what has made them who they are.
As do the stories that are written, at times containing memories as well as fantasies. In this book are some of both. The short stories are studies in different genres. There is humor in the Wiki-esque biography of Popeye the Sailor and the irreverent "When the Music Stops", fantasy in the "Bonds of War" and drama in "Silver Lining".
In short, there are pieces of life. It is my hope that you will find something in these pages that will give you pause. Pause to remember the simplicity of a child's laughter, the joy of discovery, the realization that love has found you or has abandoned you. Perhaps even just the unadulterated ability to laugh.
My life has shown me so many of the stories and poems in this book. Your life has shown you the stories that made you who you are. Take the time to allow your own tales find their way back into your memories. Let my stories remind you of your own forgotten treasure.

My Regret
 

In the twilight times of my days

I sit solitary, surrounded by the voices

Of a thousand wrongs I've done

Chastising and screaming for honor to be restored

Honor lost never to be regained

Such is the price of fear

Lost in the twilight times of my hours

Surrounded by the specter of loneliness

Gripped by the cold hands of self-imposed punishment

My strongest regrets are the loves I let slip

Through my unwieldy hands

And my unopened heart

Until finally in the twilight of my minutes

The stone hearts of the multitude open

Their searching eyes resting on what is left of my soul

Their grasping hands reach to render my life

All thoughts turn to you

And the hope you saw the child

And forgave my fear
 

Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be

interior and personal which the reader recognizes as his own. 

                                                                        ~Salvatore Quasimodo

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