Poem
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Fallen arms Upon the blue texture to a shoreline, Recedes me Straight to her embrace. I am for the coil Without raising myself from the soil, Without breathing the ocean to a boil, Without misusing my steps in the toil To be beside her In the earth, In the sand, In the washed up land
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You turnThe blue from the storm,Leaving me to grapple the wavesBy my hands,Upon this desolate landWhere the ripples break me. You churnThe waters beneath my crutches.I rotate these handlebars, slowly,To fathom your deepest apologyThat came riding from your mouth,When the last breath was taken. Like a church that never met winter,Like a lake that never
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Can you lose the lightBefore I go onWith the womb I shelter myself in,With the hollowness I place my voice?Your tears stream a river for my defeat,Down beneath the crevices,Further down to the undertowingNature of these footsteps. I blow dark kissesThrough the ignited blue,I want to seek guidanceFrom something brand new.I shelter myselfIn a void,Forgotten
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Just a handLet loose from the palm,Kissed to many a rainThat had fallen from eyes meant to see stars.He watched her fade,Staring with a wandering soul,Wondering eyesSo rounded by ringsTo a beauty that remained eternally young. A world within himself,Homesick,FalteringBeneath waves that carry canes. He shall beMore crippled without her near,Still holding the blue upright,Still
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Startled presence,Do not be alarmed.Be in comfortWhen I hold your head back on my arm.Your tearsFall to be consumedBy an outspread tongue.I need to knowYour light is greater than my own. Can you believeIn dreams,Once more? I live for the reckoningOf a preserved moment.No more loss, to drench our souls. Let loveCross skies, sent forward
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He sees his God,Upside-down upon the cross,Disheveled,Though bandagedBy the pauper’s rags.That man,Withdrawn into the dirtBeneath his perfect feet.His remorseTakes a courseBackwards, away from what he fearsMay send him into tears. Beautiful imageOf a Saint,Whose blood flows as crimson dustDown to the same earthA man with perfect feet, sends his following.Dust,Eternal in its slopeTo no one’s
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StareWith all your gleaming spirit.EmboldenThe ripeness of a flower’s petals.Your irises speak to the orchids,As your pupils whisper to the sun.No blindness,Just color,As would be of your soul. I am enamored,GatheredBy the remaining droplets of joyThat hum down your cheeks,As you fall to my arms,Catching the many pleas,Within the fewest seasThat set a calm tide
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Wet your lips,Dear one,I am about to drown in your blueStardom.Divine one,I am here to caress your wings,I am here to open youTo humming breaths. Sweeten your dreams,In your sleep.You live in the hollowness of a playing world,Stealing stones for the fallen boughs,To break the words.You liftBricks to make your fortress,While I aim to kissIn
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My love,How could I departFrom the wind that sets my sailsTo glide?How could I withdrawFrom the openness to a moving seaThat guides me to your lightIn this storm?How would I notSee your eyes among the mist?I will drown in your fathomable kiss,Drinking the greatest momentsEver to relate to the fashion of bliss. My eyesOpen to
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Why do weUpon days soaked in ebony,Drenched in the darkOf moments, apart,Wash ourselves to clean ourselvesStill with the touch to soothe vessels,To calm the spark of dreadLeaving lipsUnneeded to be fed? We are relivedIn our quiet currentOf clear, about ourselves, so near.We dream of glaciersTo cover our cities.We hear the nightmares of othersIn external lives.Can
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Heaven’s songsMove the eclipseFrom your throatThat you might belt the solo through,That you might weave your fingers to undoStrands about your slender waist.We areA gap too close,Walking in circles,As our eyesAre a future too distant. Love dries lakes,Leaves fish to rotWhile we would have drowned,Instead of walked.Bleed a new river,My love.Lift your arms to meet
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Open your eyes,Release your vowsUpon this platter of mercy.I promise to never call outTo flaws I could simply kiss. My angel,Stroke your own wingsAgainst the skies,For radiance has lifted youTo the light of remembrance. I’ve been playing with hurt,Reminding me of the chill.The ocean calms me,While your eyes had whimpered.For I am the wounded one.
Modern Romanticism 