Biography of Ray Quesada
(***Please take a moment to vote 1-10 on any of my poems you read. I don't think I'll have an accurate idea of the quality of my work until each poem has a decent amount of votes***)
- -I want to say thank you to every one of my friends who have visited my page/voted and commented on my poems, and thanks also to any of the poets on here who've done the same, whether I am friends with you on here or not - its a very satisfying feeling when people enjoy my writing. I've had a lot of positive feedback so far, which only inspires me all the more to keep writing.
For those who just now have stumbled upon my page, I'm Ray. I was born in Ohio, where I wasted my teenage years, and now out of guilt, write constantly. :) - I lived in Myrtle Beach, SC, for around 8 years and I just moved out to Arizona in January this year. Nothing like a change of scenery and a change of pace to bring your soul out of hibernation. I've been writing poetry somewhat seriously since age 20, more seriously for about the past 2 years.
Besides poetry i like to play guitar, write songs here and there, etc. i find inspiration in silence by the ocean just as much as i find it when i'm drinking and shooting pool in bars with my friends.
-I used to fall in and out of love with my own life on a daily basis...but as of late, I've mostly just been in love with it.
I have made friends on poemhunter with some very exceptional poets, and it seems I find inspiration a lot now in reading the work of others. I admire the poets who just let it all out, who trust in their own voice. Nietzsche said, “Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.”
Thanks again for taking time out of your busy day to check out my page!
- Death Sentence
- The Punk, The Monk, And The World
- As The Rain Hits The Leaves
- A Homeless Man
- Two Autumn Leaves
- Epsilons In Nail Salons
- Creature Of Wings
- On Stars That Twinkle
- And Time, A Burning Flame
- A Poem Sneaks Into the Room
- The River Is Never The Same
- A Secret Shade Of Blue
- Like Cigarettes
Starve for the Night
Smoking marijuana on a kind,
January, Arizona night
Our immature, clever hearts
Both evil and harmless, are cleansed
and purified; amplified;
Like the sun through a magnifying lens
as we shatter ancient, sacred emeralds
in our bongs.