A flashback to last year, as the sun sets on July 4th. I made an impromptu decision to take a cruise around New York Harbor with the Circle Line. Touristy, yes. Awe-inspiring too. It's never a cliche to see Lady Liberty in her silhouetted splendor. After all, she welcomes all who pass by.

Welcome to July! A Happy Canada Day to our friends up north. It feels like a century, the last six months that have passed with so much turmoil at home and around the world. But as with every first day of a new month, all the possibilities exist. Thirty-one days are ahead of us.

The 20th of June. In the Northern Hemisphere, it's the longest day of the year. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is the shortest day of the year. It's only fair that the new season be welcomed in. Though the exact moment of the solstice isn't until 10:42 PM tonight. Ninety-four days are ahead.

A Happy Father's Day to all the dads in the world! As the third Sunday in June arrives, at the midway point of the month. A little extra love to everyone who has difficulty celebrating this day. With a toast to the departed memories of the fatherly figures who are no longer with us.

A moment to pay my respects to Brian Wilson. Pet Sounds is one of my holy trinity for the greatest album of all time. But stopping there doesn’t do him enough justice. As I listened through The Beach Boys “Sounds of Summer” compilation, his musical gifts are on full display. Rest easy, Brian.

Today’s the Dia de Portugal. It’s also the day in 1580 where the national poet, Luis de Camões passed. This is his tomb, located inside Lisbon’s Jerónimos Monastery. On the other side of the room, lies the tomb of the explorer Vasco da Gama. The seafaring immortalized in Os Lusíadas.

An unlikely rallying cry. With nods to fellow poets D.E. Frietzke and Prudence Brooks. As their words merged into a poem. After feeling some heavy emotions, I came across a moment of inspiration. Writing tends to be the one constant in my life, when I run from everything else.

On the anniversary of D-Day, my most poignant travel moment. At the American Cemetery in Normandy in 2019. Our group heard “Taps” playing in the background. Everyone stood at attention in silence. Looking out to the beaches in the pouring rain. I was there, the beaches of Allied landing.

A welcome to June, in verse. The sixth month of 2025. Time is just flying by at this point. After a whirlwind May, June begins on a blank slate. With thirty new days ahead, anything is possible. With the first half of the year rapidly coming to a close. Let's see where this month ends up.

A moment where two genres meet. As they did during the April social at Cucala Dance Company. The mixing of salsa and tango led to this poem’s creation. It was a call to my invisible muse. Though, she’s unseen in this case. A recurring dream that I’ve had since 2022. One dance, then we sever.

At the end of a long week. I went to see Soledad Barrio and Noche Flamenca in their latest production, “The Sleep of Reason”. With a nod to the artist Francisco Goya. Every move, clap, stomp and song brought him to life. Lest I forget the mercurial Ms. Barrio. Her presence commands attention.

The inner monologue, in verse. As I wrote to the poet Lois Rose Sterling’s prompt where two voices are arguing with each other. I’m getting called out for bring anti social. By me. As one does when they’re by themselves. Far away from everyone else and the noise. It’s an eternal mystery.

A flashback to earlier this year. I wrote this poem during my time in the writing group, Gather. With the prompt: The wind carries stories the mouth ought to send. It took me back to a happy place, Croatia. Bringing up the memories of a specific person from last year’s trip.

A moment to introduce myself. This poem is based off the prompt from the poetess, Eo Sivia. After the chaos of NaPoWriMo and a saddened week this week, it felt right for a reset. I’m a poet from Queens, New York. I write from the heart. Nearly everything can become poetry given time.

This poem is in tribute to Karen Levy. She was my English teacher in high school. As a senior, she was the first person to discover my poetic gift. It would be years later that I would eventually catch on. She was a kind, sweet person. At LICHS for the semester, yet she left her mark on me.

A moment to celebrate all the mothers and motherly figures. On this, the second Sunday in May. With all the love and grace to those that find this day difficult to celebrate. And a toast to the departed motherly figures. I want to wish all of you and to my mom, A Happy Mother's Day!

This poem is based on the prompt by the poet, Karen Richards. Without poetry, who am I? That’s the question I try to answer. I’d be lost without the words that I write. As they act as my voice due to my speech impediment. It’s how I share myself with the world at large.

A welcome to the month of May. After the year started so slowly, time has gathered speed. Five months into the year. It’s a month to celebrate mothers and honor those that gave their lives for the country. After a busy April, May begins with a blank slate. Thirty one new days have arrived.

This poem is based off a prompt from the poet Alix Klingenberg. The mountain remembers. As it was during the climb around the archeological site at Mycenae in Greece. Twisting and turning up the paths. But I’d get up that hill one stick tap at a time. A panorama reaching the top of the hill.

After the storm. As I left the house for Cucala Dance Company’s April social on Saturday evening, the skies opened up. So much rain in a short time. The mugginess in the air was palpable. Funny thing about storms, the skies clear up. Just in time to start dancing the night away.

A moment of beauty to close out this week. I spent my lunch break on Wednesday afternoon at Pumphouse Park, outside the Brookfield Place mall. In April, the tulips are in full bloom. It was a sunny day with blue skies above our heads. I didn't want to walk back to work. I could sit here all day.

This week’s #haikuforhumpday celebrates #ladiadadesantjordi. The day celebrating the patron saint of Catalyuna. Here, I’m at Barcelona’s Parc Guell in October 2016. The sunshine peeks through the clouds. This was created by Antoni Gaudi to be luxury housing. But only two homes were built.

A moment from above for #earthday. It was September 2022. With the Italian Alps in view, as the descent into Venice begins to start a twelve day tour of Italy. Without getting too preachy about it, Earth is humanity’s home. More needs to be done to protect it. For every generation that comes.

A little bit late. But better late than never. Happy Easter for those that celebrate the day. On this day of the Resurrection, joy fills the air. The darkness has lost. I hope that wherever in the world you are, joy is found or it finds you. From me here in NYC, this is my Urbi et Orbi.

A moment when the invisible muse calls. If not for a Google Photos notification, this poem doesn’t happen. I had a flashback to March 29th. The vibe at Cucala Dance Company was electric. Enough to write a second piece on Salsa dancing. The muse came in, we danced and then she left.

A moment of calm, in verse. The poem was written based on a prompt by the poet Libby Jenner. As the sun was setting over the horizon in Montauk on Long Island. A fitting way to end an eventful stay that began with a friend’s wedding day. The moment happened before the rains came.

This is my poem for the First Line Poets project. With thanks to the poet @mezzo.strada for the opening line. Given all the places I’ve been to, they’re all etched in memory. But Venice is a special case. There’s beauty in every corner. A starting point for twelve days in Italy.

A table full of sweet moments. As it was during my sister's friend Teresa's birthday party last night. I was eyeballing the cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery from the moment I arrived at Downtown Social's Empire Room. It was a good night spent in good company. A rainy night in the East Village.

For #nationalsiblingsday. My sister and I, on the Accela train heading to Providence, Rhode Island last August. We spent the long weekend, first in Newport then in Providence. It it wasn't for her suggestion and so many others, I wouldn't be traveling. I'm grateful that she's my twin sister.

A moment to call back. It was October 10th, 2024. After the ferry ride from Hvar, we arrived in the town of Drvenik. With enough time to admire the view for a lunch break. The town was closing up for the season. It was peaceful without the crowds of people. We’d be on our way to Dubrovnik.

A moment in the mountains of Greece. This was the view from the hotel room in the town of Arachova. It led to a poem based on the poet Raquel Franco’s prompt. I sat out on the balcony before going to breakfast. I didn’t want to leave, though Delphi was coming next. Ancient Greece on display.

A moment of escape to close out the week. With Kraftwerk’s 1977 album, “Trans Europe Express” in my head, out came this poem. The TEE actually existed from 1957-1995. I imagined myself on a trip leaving Paris in the morning. By night, I was arriving in Venice. The allure of rail travel.

A welcome to the month of April. As the rains clear out from last night, the page on the calendar turns. Thirty new days are here. A month where Lent ends, earth is honored and poems are written. Everything’s in bloom too. Spring is here, even if it doesn’t feel like it outside.

A quarter of the way through 2025. An update on where things are going , via the prompt from the poetess, Eo Silvia. It’s been a slow start to the year so far. I’ve had my moments along the way. What’s ahead? NaPoWriMo. Salsa 101. And a possible high school reunion. With more to come in Q2.

The poem is a response to the prompt,“Chasing Eden” by the poetess, Cora Lynn. Eden is a place where joy and peace feel abundant. It’s in every place by the sea that I’ve been to. I found it in the Croatian town of Dvrenik, after stepping off the ferry from Hvar. Eden is everywhere.

About last night… I entered a contest earlier this month and won a Happy Hour, thanks to Sixpoint Brewing. As in, a full bar tab of food and drinks. I had to give a headcount of people but in the end, it was just my sister and I at the table. I had a good night with her, nonetheless.

March 25th is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Day in the US. March is also Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. For all the complications encountered, I truly feel blessed to be alive. I do the best I can to exist in this world. It takes more effort to do so at times. In the end, CP doesn’t define me.

The idea of lore. I came across the original post from the poetess, Michelle Awad. But which lore do I write about? This is the story of how I got my life back. All by walking on my own two feet. The moment is the happiest I’ll ever be. Walking without a brace on my right leg.

I’m a day late with this one. As yesterday also happened to be the #internationaldayofhappiness. With that in mind, I wrote my annual list of things that make me happy. A mix of little things. Music, movement, travel and interactions. Yet my poetry and my day job didn’t make the list.

At the time of posting, there’s less than twenty minutes of winter left to go. The signs of the season are already there. From longer days, to the first flowers rising up from the ground. It’s also the time of year where I’ll want to spend time outside. Summer waits. All in ninety two days.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Beannachtaí na Féile Pádraig oraibh! An Irish blessing from me to you, or something close enough to it. With a nod to the escorted tour of Ireland taken in October 2017. The photo was taken while driving along the Ring of Kerry. A sunny spot on a cloudy and rainy day.

Five years since the pandemic began. As I sat on Sunday evening, I thought about the last “normal” day. When I closed the door that evening, everything began to change. It wouldn’t be recognizable when work resumed in July 2020. The memories linger on even as a sense of “normal” returns.

The invisible muse returns. It seems like whenever I do something new, she appears. Dance class earlier this month was no exception. I’ve had the idea to write about my experiences in some way. With this flashback, I had a partner the second half of the afternoon. I felt joy moving my body.

This week’s #haikuforhumpday. With a nod to David Gilmour’s “On An Island”, my mind drifted back to Santorini. A moment of temporary bliss. Looking out the door of my villa. The sun rising over the sea. Not another soul around at 6 AM. I found another happy place. I didn’t want to leave.

In the center of it all. At the end of my first day in Spain, I ended up at the Puerta Del Sol in Madrid. This is Kilometer Zero. The point where all distances are measured. The saying goes, if you put both feet on the marker, you’ll have good luck. I did so, twice. Next time, it was at night.

A Happy #internationalwomensday to all the women of the world! From my mom, to my sister. All of my female relatives and friends too. In this trying and difficult world we live in, you're the source of light and inspiration. Women need to be cherished and celebrated. On this day and every day.

If there’s anything to know about me, I cry easily. The moment that I saw the original poem from the poet Prudence Brooks, I knew that I had to write an after poem. Years of old tropes, “men aren’t supposed to cry” and “you need to be strong”. I wear my heart on my sleeve. Unapologetically.

In honor of the famed composer Antonio Vivaldi’s birthday. At the start of a walking tour in Venice, I noticed the sign in front of a church. I’m not going to lie, his “Four Seasons” stuck in my head for the rest of the walking tour. Canal laden streets led us to the Piazza San Marco.

I had just posted last week’s #haikuforhumpday. Then I came across a post from fellow Gather poet Mary Geschwindt. With a nod to a certain email that’s been going around a list of what I did last week. It wasn’t efficient or being hardcore. I was just trying to find joy in the small moments.

A welcome to the month of March. Thirty one days, a season in transition. As the last days of winter give way to the opening of spring. A month to honor women, bring awareness to cerebral palsy and reflect on five years since the world was immeasurably upended. More daylight will be coming.