#brevity

Something Too Holy to Be Holy 2023 Jaundré van Breda Independently published Something Too Holy to Be Holy (2023) is my latest collection of poetry available at amazon.com. My previous poetry books include

I sold the ladder. I love you.

What kind of cruel sadistic person would use this to melt a snowman some kid probably built?

Hemingway could do it six words.

Firm you stand As an old Oak tree Rooted in your beliefs As wise as an eagle Whoms decisions are As profound as the wind The same profundity On which are blown Your leaves of wisdom I eagerly rake Progeny

A new day is a New beginning Yet his longings for her Keeps him from living Keeps him from moving on Keeps him from forgetting And that my friend Is the most painful part #writersremorse

#OneMindOneThoughtOneAfrica

No one knows his pain. Yet he feels their judgemental stares like daggers aimed for his jugular. Everyone has a finger to point but not a hand to lift him up. This, the collective nuisance of humanity;

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Life Is Beautiful. Enjoy the journey. Photo Credit: Unknown Purpose Life is this tiny little gem Lost to oblivion. Our purpose, as sentient beings, Is to find our way back To that from which we’ve come.

Dreams are portals to subconscious thoughts thought forgotten. Like a ghost, some dreams can hunt you for eternity, images that can only be erased in death; for only the dead refuses to dream. She awoke

If I could lasso a #rainbow and corral the #stars all~ I would place at your feet if only you would just see me #OneMindOneThoughtOneAfrica

The biggest problem facing the African in amerikkka today is fear. We are utterly and totally afraid to upset the status quo. Our fear stems from trust or the lack thereof, we have been "bred"

His love for you, is as genuine as broken promises made during the heat of winter, when love was at a discount and dick came cheap. What is love to the dead? But a cold, dank, and Desperate place. Like

Warmongering Disease-bearing demagogues Fell from the sky Like an angry rain The people watched in utter dismay As the bowels of thousands of C-17 opened up and Regurgitating its madness upon the land

i yawn i stretch i ponder i wonder i ascend on a brand new day #OneMindOneThoughtOneAfrica

Her beauty isn't measured by some European standard of what beauty should be but by her confidence and the fact that she is loving the skin she's in. To me, that alone is beautiful. She’s fire and she

What is love to the dead? But a cold, dank, and Desperate place. Like the space between our Hearts, Where even light Refuses to penetrate. How could she ever love you When pieces of her heart Are strewn

She dared to trust And the page was turned Ending a chapter in her life Where she fell in love And down a rabbit hole Her innocence lost

There was nothing left, but a rickety old basket of broken promises and dirty clothes which, much like her hands, she washed herself of him.