Poetry
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To be stagnantIs my placeUpon, as you are absent.My work goes undone,As my days run byMiserable watersBetween my fingers. You could look at me,At the aching manWho does not truly stand.You could mockThe he who never dares to shockThe rest of the veins, in his form,While blood never flows freely. Just a pieceOf the advice…
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Can you breathe,Dear one?The ocean seems to have been wrappedIn a stormOf your making.Can you calm,Dear one?Can you see the fallen dropletsThat exit from a pair of eyes,Like hanging from the shortest piece of rope? Just a bucketTo a wellOf where your sadnessHas its origin. Your handsFeed the line,Down to where your heart resides,Down to…
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About slendernessTo a finger marred by aches.She shiesJust a second away from my lips.A stain matches her glanceUpon my cheek.One tearFalls as the descending bird,With no wings for flight.All I wantIs to fall in her clasp. Just a moment awayFrom when the priest saysIt is time to kiss.Just a moment,Until I can kill away this…
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Count scars,Limitless as stars.Count truthWhole enough to be broken,As bread is consumed,Chewed,Digested,Not like the lieSo easily swallowed.A broken truthWas once, in preparation,A wholeness. A broken form,BeatenUntil bloody,Is always the truth, reborn,Though neverIn the eyes of who broke it. Would ChristBreak the truth,As he broke bread,As he gave wine?Broken bread, as beaten flesh,Drunken wine, as streaming…
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She stood there,With cold, wet hair,Like none other than another winterGone fiercely.Through the moon’s many faces,Blankness remainsTo remind meOf a few captured momentsHovering beneath time,Drifting between space. She stands thereTo sharpest melodiesOf her groansIn sheerest grief.Just a daffodilIn a simmering summer’s night,Though never received the warmthOf an aching sun. She was dried againstHer own petals,Using…
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I am not about to stareFor too long.Your long hairHang like the dropping tearsI have sworn were the place of my bathing.Your faceIs the stolen aspect of an angelDescended to my arms.Did God erase you,That He might see you for me? I hold a kingdomTo your rose,A dream that ignites the restOf the future’s caress.Your…
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Just a wellTo dump the contentsOf her eyes.Deep blue as Neptune’s children,AwakenedAs puling infants,Close to no mother,Close to no otherBut the cruel hands of a Father,Of God’s sheltering darkness.For sheCan swear He created Hell. Water the cries,To water them, more.Water the lilies, upon the current to the brook,Draped as curtainsOver the stepping stone.She has lost…
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Hold on, dear,To the waters,To the densityOf your eyes in the universe.Stars leak from your void,For you have lost much,As stars wander from your gaze,For you believe you are drowning. Hold on, my love,The rain is never-ending,As we must hold on. Believe in this,My hands tremble,Though they hold, tightly. Believe I can do it,Love,As my…
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How much earthIs needed to suppress the light?The corpse, still awareUntil resurrection makes it declareThat the fog could be brighter,That the dark could be whiterWith the bleeding shell of mercy. He says to the road, ahead,Among its inhabitants,“We are stoned, as one.”He breathes a momentThat lasts,After his rising. The destructionOf constructionLoses always the dimensionFor a…
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Stilled,Without a sign to the breathThat would raise youTo feel the morning’s showerAgainst your cheeks,To receive the gleamThat can display lifeFor your acrylic eyes. I could paint youIn the way you are,Blossomed from a rose in a grave,Written out as a song of sleep,As to you, I could not save,Though death whispered its lullaby. MarksCreasing…
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No one told a manTo dust off his skin, in the corner.No one scolded the manWhose eyes blazed a stream to the future.No one could hold a manWho would cry in that cornerOver the faint photograph of a faceThat would never grow faint in his mind. He had told himselfThat his words are the loneliness.He…
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FallenBeneathThe blue tempestOf grief,Where disbeliefIs my new strength,As denialIs my revivalFrom an ocean I had forgotten to swim. Under,Where I amDrowning,You still roar with bent stareUpon the fossil to my formRemaining so very tornBy sailsThat only ever wailIn the return of you, to my waiting arms. You give griefTo the beastThat remains untied,Unbound,Not of his…
Modern Romanticism 