Creative Writing
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I have founda nest of coffins,a wilderness of different snowwith the particles, fewest to leave,numerous to count. I did cryunder a blue moon,with crumpled letters, burninginside the sun of a heart,the fires to devotion. Enrich me.Walk on without me.I have permittedyour shores to recede,while I bend low for defeat. I will find another path to…
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All glimpses.Each fold in the bedsheetscradles me, closer.Wind me back,throughout the knots,the confusionsin time. You slipped withinthe hourglass.Your sands created these footprints,were foundations forfragile bridges. Watered eyes,growing gardens,a weed torn from its roots.There are still-life depictionsin the canvases of old art. You left the road for me to deny.Your arrival was a wasted petalbroken from…
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Wherever does the fragile heart race, when idle eyes go on, forever? Leave your trail where stars had gathered. Laughter from Heaven spoiled our springtime, turned leaves into poison as you set ruby to your Autumn lips. Your kiss granted me fatality. You lowered me to Hell, while I lifted you. Some bitter warmth from…
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Off track,behind the timesof everyone else’s smiles. Fill me with blue,remind me of the sea.Elevate me with the moonwhile the sun goes to sleep.I can run around,toss aroundwhile the earth jogs its mile. Into November,where eyes can rememberthe speech that told a patternin the leaves.The fallen, scattered.As those swept withinwere against the grain,were sun-blocked,were in…
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Pull tighteyes that slept the night.Beneath the tantrum sun,there is fleshto trace of our feuds,to fulfill spacewithin the nude. We burn,scar our eyesin each other’s wars. Full, with crazeto turn the delusion,the fazeinto unrelenting reality. Within the storm,drawing cracks in the dust.Within our arms,folding clouds aroundinto further tension. Was it always this darkwhen pain is…
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Pale form, solid shapetorn to dark matter in herfaceless void. Why I, did notendeavor to cryfor the gracebrought out into space? Wings had danced, greaterin the joyless smiles,left for the fading soundscapes.For beauty that diesupon a stretched bough,hung there. Without answers, with murmursuttering the futile question, – as she stands, breaking herselfalong the waves,bandaging her…
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Without walking up to speed.Without the need to traceall details seen, – I can hold an hourglassto the rays, above,to the signs of graythat frost would smearall reasons to love,all methods to pray. Your own, your light for fullest viewto the symptoms of grace and sadness. I waited, into the next life,walking and swearing to…
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The time he kepthealing while injuringthe scars to reopen. Father, would youopen your mouth in shame?In knowingmy harrowing time,would you still lift me? You endedfor a rake, to gatheryour spirit and ashes. You ended upwithin your favorite lake,sinking with the multitude tearsthat stirred upon the inside. That time he leaptfrom his time in the fire,from…
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Find mecrying with eyes open.Put to sleepall fears, all sensationthat counted our momentsinto bright heat. You might crywith the sunkissing your eyes.You may wonder whylove did not grow its flowerswhen our gaze was lowered. You could tryto embrace silence,within the earth. Pass your gaze.Give your torchas it forces me to empathize,molding meto agonize. Silence, radiancewith…
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If you wereallowed to enterthese burning arms, readthe torn pages I have carried,no tears could escape you,no weather would erase you. Born onto the snowwhere petals lost their softness.Born to bebrought lowto the same furnace and flameof the biting frost,where we knelt. Watcherto the setting moon.Gathereramong the cherries of passion,burning in a different momentwhere breaths…
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All to crave,everything to breatheof the oceans in your eyes,to the life withinyour echoing cries. Since the sadnessspeaks in riddlesI am able to fathom.Since those trickling tearscan roam us in circles, – when thunder strikes,I see it coming. The same place, the spotwhere a kiss was loosenedfor the rocks. The love, the quivering fingersrepeat the…
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Liam ended with a question in the same method he uses to enter or begin something else. The inquiry for his surname, the last word to a very fundamental identity. The lack of himself not knowing what is, of a surname, so basic and yet, retains itself at the core of all persons. Liam does…
Modern Romanticism 