Saturday, October 18, 2014

MY FLOWER (a love poem)

Like a flower blooming
On a warm spring day
One glimpse of you
Takes my breath away.

The beauty of a flower
Innocent and pure
With just enough edge
So that I can't be sure.

Like a flower in the wind
softly sways
It's that kind of peace
That you bring my days.

A flower doesn't say much
Just wins you over with its beauty
That in a nutshell
Is what you do to me.

The warmth of your smile
And the shine in your eye
The wonder of your laughter
Your tears when you cry.

Everything about you
Just steals my heart
An ocean a million miles wide
couldn't keep us apart.

You bring me peace
In my darkest hour
You're everything good in my life
You are my flower.

by Ricky Silva, 2014

Sunday, October 12, 2014


Florida State Prison
If you sit like I do day after day confined at most in ten feet of space, you must find a way to cope.
I have found that time and what I do with it, may by itself be a way to keep me from going crazy.
First I have learned to try and follow a routine of when I wake up and when I go to sleep on a daily basis. This gives me structure daily. Then what I do with my time is important also.
I read a lot. I will not lie and say I try to educate myself with my reading because I have found that a good novel is a way of escaping this madness. I just finished reading the whole Harry Potter series and found that each book took me away, if only for a while.

I also listen to music to pass time. Sometimes songs bring back painful memories, yet painful they are they remind me that I can feel and that's a good thing. Now while I'm structuring my time, as crazy as it may sound, I have to pay no attention to time itself. Just let the hours pass away by engrossing myself in whatever I am doing. So know what I'm doing with my time let forget about my time.

Crazy? Well maybe it is but for my that's the only way I can do the time without letting the time do me.

"Be safe!"

one man caged

Saturday, October 11, 2014


Words pour quickly 
from the tip of my pen.
Thoughts that flow deeply 
come out now and then.

Like a wild beast roars
I can with ink display my rage.
Like a bird in the sky
I can be free of my cage.

I can show the pain
that is tearing my apart.
I can express the love
that lives inside my heart.

Imagine the emotion shared
in a poem unheard.
Yet to some minds
it's just a mixture of words.

There is darkness in poetry 
yet don't dwell on the sorrow.
For in the next line
lives the hope of tomorrow.

With my pen and some paper
I can let my heart roam free.
So it mind be just words to you
but it's more than a poem to me.

by Ricky Silva, 2013