Poem
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To the arranged bouquet, Gently emerging from the dirt, I will take myself to the taint, Gracing my lowered self to the hurt. Your beauty is a suffocation, An enclosed memory Of all that drinks in the scenery, Of a mind that lifts, to no defeated end. Blood is discovered, As the raindrops from the
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Your even tracesSpill wild graces.I am fixed upon the moonOf your prettied face.To then, your form beyond,To see, the great details beneathA changing expression. You have formed your formOut of ivory.I have tasted its sample,Of leaking perspiration. You battle quiet momentsWith fervent joy.You resound the chapters aloudOf our breath beneath the water. I taste of
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Trace your ground,Smother that soundOf years that belong to yesterday.There is too much at stakeFor you to break. I wed, through the sonnet,Your fabled face,In its truest grace.I speak syllables that matter mostTo the epitome of what is close. The gates surroundUs,Where we walk beyond the shore.We get undressedTo the rain, that stains our forehead.
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Under scarred landscapesOf greatest heartbreaks,I quiver,As I shiver.The love I left upon the dirt,Grows with thorns, replacing hurt.The dust that settles in the sky,Was lifted from below, to sorrow’s goodbye. I lose what I kept inside,I give all I felt was mineTo the blue pieces of a Neptune showerIn oceans that leave me to cower.
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He has done no goodUpon the day of your arrivalTo his wretched arms. Your sadness,Your criesShould remove the cloak of coldness. Release yourselfFrom his grasp.Tear yourself, from his clasp. Remember me,When the sun risesOver the shore’s sparkling currentBleeding in from beneath. Remember the wordsI have offered you,When death stalks,To make you insecure.
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You once grew currents,To be let free from despondent eyes.You once cried in aghast tantrums,Losing your sanity with each surmise.You once faded into memories of men,Who had treated you poorly. Poor thing,Welcome upThis new evening,For I have set a bird upon your shoulderThat chirps for the newest morn.You have felt somber, in the need to
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I know now toSeek my fondnessIn her moment.Her eyes,Her skies,Her dreams,Her gleams.Her brazen selfBleeds the sun into the horizon. She liftsHer light aboveThe outstretched sea.She curls her eyesTo set herself. I am entrancedBy coming daysWhere I can pray,Where I can dance,Where I can open myselfTo the memories. Life is the open book.She is its pages.She
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I come with blank slates,To render your fires empty of passionThat you have lifted to Heaven.You pass onWith eyes that reach to the delicate wavesWhere there is no storm.Your arms reachTo the corpses trailing an avenue,While stench is left behindAt the ends of your fingers. You grow thorns for the making of flowers,Wrestling with the
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Drop your roses,Drop your feet,Drop your eyesDown to where each thing falls.Drop those wallsThat have stood youJust a mite so tall Your prideIs the musing of a thousand moreGenerations to come.As I see it,As I comprehend it,It is weak as glass.Let yourself go, to where you may collide. Find yourself,Shine yourselfIn the sun’s warmthOf exercise,
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Your eleganceTransformsThe notes I etch outFrom this violinTo your sidesPurloined by the curves of many wavesIn the theft of weight. You draw out the oceanBy the streaming breathsOf your parted lips. Salt remains in your hair.As I reach for you,You draw back. Let your sweat trickle downThe arms,Beneath the sunAs you’ve runThrough the fragrant meadowsSo
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Bled upon a thorn, New music hollows me In the entrancement of singing voice, By her entertaining sound Of drums upon skipping beats Whenever she’s fallen In arms as wide as the sea. I created the ocean For the faces of the moon, Using hands that could not ever stand Were my eyes to be
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Lace your legs, For I yearn to kiss each steeple, Carrying your form to my arms, Within the strings of captivity. In your entanglement, There is breath. In your eyes, Comes no death Of love that exists for the centuries, For the years We walk on paths that do not decay. Do not bury your
Modern Romanticism 