I am The Helen Keller of Love. I can’t see or hear it coming, and I know whether love is blind or if it’s just deaf in the eyes, because I write romance poetry in Braille.

2021/06/02 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

Wasn’t it William Congreve, who in 1697 said, “Hell hath no fury like 1992 scorned”? He was a prolific and prophetic poet, and most of his later work still survives above urinals all over Branson, Missouri.

2019/12/132019/12/13 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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If I could live anywhere, I’d live here, in this moment, with you.

2019/09/022019/09/02 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Our love is timeless, like a broken watch. Sorry I’m late.

2018/12/112018/12/11 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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I’m such a romantic, and my heart was beating so fast while I wrote my Love Haiku/grocery list, that I forgot to include deodorant. Now I’m drenched with desire and passion.

2018/11/272018/11/27 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Butterflies are Flying Flowers, sunsets are Cloud Flowers, and fireworks are skyflowers. Everything reminds me of flowers, and flowers remind me of love, because love is all around all the time.

2018/08/142018/08/14 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Romance is like billowy smoke that rolls by in the breeze, never to tumble on the wind the same way again, and no matter how much you want to recapture its signature essence, once it floats by it’s gone forever.

2018/08/122018/08/12 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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I’ve never met a sunset I didn’t love. Well, except for that one that tried to steal my girlfriend that one DayNight. It would have succeeded to, if it didn’t so abrutly disappear into the darkness.

2018/05/30 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Instead of March 15th, I think Corporate Taxes should be due on February 14th, Valentine’s Day, because honestly, is anything more romantic than doing your taxes?

2018/02/162018/02/16 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Is there nobility in poverty? It is good to be a poet, but it is better to be a poet who owns Po.et.

2018/01/142018/01/14 jarodkintz1Leave a comment

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Tag: poet

I am The Helen Keller of Love. I can’t see or hear it coming, and I know whether love is blind or if it’s just deaf in the eyes, because I write romance poetry in Braille.

Like this:

Wasn’t it William Congreve, who in 1697 said, “Hell hath no fury like 1992 scorned”? He was a prolific and prophetic poet, and most of his later work still survives above urinals all over Branson, Missouri.

Like this:

If I could live anywhere, I’d live here, in this moment, with you.

Like this:

Our love is timeless, like a broken watch. Sorry I’m late.

Like this:

I’m such a romantic, and my heart was beating so fast while I wrote my Love Haiku/grocery list, that I forgot to include deodorant. Now I’m drenched with desire and passion.

Like this:

I’ve never met a sunset I didn’t love. Well, except for that one that tried to steal my girlfriend that one DayNight. It would have succeeded to, if it didn’t so abrutly disappear into the darkness.

Like this:

Instead of March 15th, I think Corporate Taxes should be due on February 14th, Valentine’s Day, because honestly, is anything more romantic than doing your taxes?

Like this:

Is there nobility in poverty? It is good to be a poet, but it is better to be a poet who owns Po.et.

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