Creative Writing
-
This beckoning To my own faltering. The kisses come silent Blown upon the passing gusts. The sails of mine Are weathered by weather, Folding in the ruining of my mind, Twisting by the ruptures upon my heart. My hail Is your tale. My tears, pour the ocean for me To cross, while my loss is…
-
Wait for the wild times To say upon the current times That they were not meant in their place To see the thousand weeping faces. The dangerous times Place themselves on the seat of shame. The gentler times Are seated on the right place of life. We are two foes Who fight, in the throes,…
-
Pull down your world upon mine, And kiss me hollow. Words are so unspoken As the shells upon the shore That never reached anyone’s ears. You have a gift For perception. See me on your shoreline Counting the raindrops, the tears Spraying against my marred face. I have a wilted emptiness For countless seasons I…
-
How many storms can follow us home, How many deaths can prove us undone By the faces so cubicle, So box-shaped, without a curve for expression’s sake? How many lacking humanities Can pull us down to hollow and empty graves? How many discarded breaths Can flood the fields with uncertainties? You had your thoughts craving…
-
My pain Is naught. Your pain Is bought From the galleries where color is adorned At the Spaniard Puetra del Sol, Run as red on ivory As a blushing girl, roaming through destiny. You field the flowers, As their scents tempt you. Kiss their great numbers, That I cannot haunt you. I want to love,…
-
How much love Can we kiss the roses with, Before our lips become grazed By the touch of thorns? I did love, I truly did. You played notes upon the golden harp To lure me through, passageways Towards the messenger Whose message was to remain silent To your waiting game. I fell through the clouds,…
-
I still vapor, Leaking From your bleeding lungs, Though the fever Has left us on the road, Onward. Our hearts reverberate On hollow notes, While beauty is but the standing stem, Of the flower That has lost its petals. I want to kiss, though am ignorant of what I miss. Confusion, Takes place In the…
-
Beneath the wilted roses, I seem a fragrance too many. Too often left upon my bones To drink of something else sweet. Your absence has buried my heart, Left me full of the dark. You loosened me, then dropped me Like the infant upon his neck. I felt the summer come too close, For winter…
-
Love was so wild In you, When faces had for fragile forms, Quaking hearts, Bleeding arms, Broken souls, in the memories of our dear moments We did not ever weep, We did not need to sleep. Could you have left Your cross to the soil, Letting it grow something beyond the pain? You had died…
-
Unbroken hurts, Faceless smiles, Hurried hands That part the skin to be closed, I am in madness. The pain I seek To create the sting Upon an already-disordered and used-up soul Has made me feebler, Born as the hungry Father of Cruelty. I feast Upon the beasts To grow stronger, than the claimed spirit I…
-
Leave lakesBeneath eyes of boldest blue,Though to kiss me, will you do? Wrap yourself in wilted petals,Cover your dreams in tear-stainedSheets,Bold red, though now blackened by falling dropletsComing from the storm in your irises. Love has emptied youInto death’s own fervent memories,Leaving trails beneath your feet,For many more men to follow. Like the last,I merely…
-
Your cheeks, in the summer rise Of longer moments, to speak in the maze Of gardens, with gazes longer than my fingers That have entrapped your ankles, like rope For the marvelous, golden flesh. Sing to me Wide verses, Boldest beauty who does not sleep, For you are the season with the brightest light. The…
Modern Romanticism 