Whenever I write poetry I try to
imagine myself in an empty dark, quiet room.
Suddenly a myriad of words appear. As I touch each word, it
illuminates and sheds light on the feeling, sensation, mood, or
thought I am trying to
capture At times, I draw inspiration from my own life and surroundings but mostly, the world is enough. I look outside and it all floods into my mind: the beauty and ugliness of life, the frailty and resilience of love, the passion and vulnerability of dreams. Feelings, color, sensation—poetry to me is an attempt to stop time, if only for a few heartbeats, and capture a phase that will never return. .
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