Translation: I write a book, The drawing is cold with the winter. I write a book, The winter is cold with the paper. In are the books I write, It is cold paper. Video: https://video.ploud.jp/videos/...

When I look back on it I know how easy it is to worry.

Upon the land of rising sea, Was once a shovel to see.

They are knocking, at my door, In that rhythm, I abhor,

From sidewalks to urban landscapes, In the Summer's heat to dead Winter.

Je dearou avoir un beze Pour le ringo et orenji. Slightly goofy conlang poetry.

You can find many of my poems here: https Source: https://listed.to/LWFlouisa

I said I was from Tennessee, Born and raised here.

A poem I wrote when I was experimenting with Breadtube. Somewhat of a Leftist anthem.

An experimental poem that combines Pimba, Flamenco, and Haiku. This is suppose to be Hafestran folk music, as I flesh out the Constructed Language.

Snowflakes fall Into the cold wind...

A more current form of poetry I've written.

Part of a larger story I'm working on. Source: https://personaljournal.ca/personal/life-without-a-gui