All in Author

Dashing, Ole' St Nick

Dashing, Ole' St Nick

William, aka, Grandpa Swagger
American Soldier's, Confidence, Author, Kris Kringle, Holidays, Pine Trees for Christmas, Poetry Is Therapy, Rhyme, The Art of Poetry, Writing

With the way the economy is with the Coronavirus, and we have the inflations cost at a rise too. Having the need to write something to topple those few issues alone. And this quaint little Christmas writing began as a text message to my older brother, John, for Christmas, and my sister. I do not believe I have told him this either. Hmm? Come on in and read this delightful Christmas poetry. Guaranteed it puts a smile on your face.

Only Dreams Imagination

Only Dreams Imagination

Grandpa Swagger, aka, Me, Myself, and I.
Artist, Dreams, Confidence, Art Is Therapy, Character, Author, Artistry, National Poetry Month, The Art of Poetry, Courage, Poetry Is Therapy, Writing, Writer

“Only Dreams Imagination” was written because of a group of fellow writers, Soupers is what we call ourselves, at PoetrySoup.com. But not just them, per se, but humanity. I pray these things for everyone along with your needs. I hope you find delight in this poem. It’s who I am, it’s always been, who I am!

Loneliness Hotel

Loneliness Hotel

Writer's, Writing Words:' - same entity - Swagger Art Studios' & Poetry
Art Is Therapy, Self-Discoveries, The Art of Poetry, The Unstable Mind, Writer's, Mental Health, Depression, Bi-Polar, Anxiety, Loss of Pet, Pets Are Family, Rescue Cat Passes Away, Poetry Is Therapy, Writing, Writer, Author, Poetry, Prose

This poem is about depression, anxiety, and the ups and downs of the back-set in life, called mental illness. I was born with, hyperactivity disorder, and couldn’t control my behavior. This led to further implications within my life.

The Story And Truth, Behind My Sons' Death  

The Story And Truth, Behind My Sons' Death  

William, aka, Grandpa Swagger
Death, Gangs, Affiliation, Associated, Non Fiction, Forced Drug Overdose, Author

The true story of what happened that lead up to my son’s death? There are still some things undisclosed, and I, for reason’s, to the betterment of my mental state of being. A wrong way to go and over something petty could have resolved anyone had any thoughts on the matter. But inside source came to confirm what my gut was saying and what my son and I had talked about over the cellphone of one of the suspects last seen with him the night of October 1, 2011. This non-fiction short story is a well-deserved read.