My name is T.S. Wilkins. I am a simple, female, inspirational poet born September 19, 1984 in the United States. My favorite food is spaghetti. My favorite color is blue. I love to spend time with my friends and family. I am pretty much a 'go with the flow' kind of person. I cannot be chained to any one category in society, and I do my best not to chain anyone else to any one category in society. I am typically the silent thinker, pondering upon the ways of the world, and writing about it as I go. Though I am concerned about the 'how' of life to a certain degree, I find more interest in the "why" of life.
I started writing poetry at the age of five. It wasn't excellent poetry or anything even close, but it was the beginning of a journey that would prove to be something special embedded in the deepest part of my being.
No, I do not write every day, and to some that may make me less of a poet. No, I am not a perfect poet. I don't always follow all the guidelines and rules. I tend to break grammatical rules for punctuation, because sometimes I need to do things a different way. I am not a great poet. I never have been and I never will be. I am the poet that I am, and my goal is not to impress you with perfection but rather to inspire you with meaning.
Inspiration is the journey I take in life, and I thank God for every minute of joy and even sorrow. If it were not for the rain, I would not know how to truly appreciate the sun.
As I walk through this fog of life,
My vision sometimes blurred
I search for what may feel familiar--
And I find it in love's words,
So when I am to leave this place
When life and I must part,
I'll leave you with my only gift....
Love from my poet's heart.
~T.S. Wilkins~
"You cannot look at a butterfly with your mind because then it will only be a butterfly. You must look at a butterfly through the sacred window of your soul into the mysterious realm of its soul, and then it will become poetry."
~T.S. Wilkins~
" What is life?
It is the flash of a firefly in the night.
It is the breath of a buffalo in the wintertime.
It is the little shadow which runs across
the grass and loses itself in the sunset."
Crowfoot, Blackfoot warrior and orator 1830 - 1890
