Poetry
-
Should you die,Could you bury me with you?I’d like to not re-lift the memoriesDeep from undergroundIn my mind,For my pain has already surfacedFrom beneath an oceanOf the same tears we have both sailed uponBeneath starless skies. Love is the finality of our great devotion,And death has been its greatest enemy.Like two petals to cross either…
-
Make me bleed Over thee The running wine from wrists that hold captives Riding endless currents To their bitterness. I have become one of my own, As just merely a vessel in these wrists. Love was once all we had For ourselves, And now I am fixated on the endless hurt, The endless war In…
-
Like each pang of burn, Like every drop of sweat, To be hung From my cheeks, from my chin, There is you in mind For no reason at all. For I cannot discern The origin of this feeling. I cannot tell From what Hell, This anger springs from. It is just there And will not…
-
When the tears stop flowing From the two sponges kept in sockets Floating atop lakes, Nestled before a mind, Where I gave up the sight for life, And the only vision before me Is a fleeting one. I saw her form, Bleeding upon the shore. Shells were fleeing From their mother. She was the broken…
-
My poetry manuscript got accepted by a local publisher in my state’s county. I am thrilled about this. Perhaps I can finally get past my past, and focus on the future, for once. 🙂
-
If I was never a poet, Pain would be so easy to feel. If I was never a poet, I would not care to see the outline of your face Embedded deep in memory. If I was never a poet, I’d not have fingers to press buttons Merged in the emotions, where I let tears…
-
While I sacrificed all imperfectionsFor one perfection,For one love,Fate was there to curse me. While I sacrificed all the time I hadFor one moment,I received a blame, by fate and its surrounding colors.What a spectacular array of sequencesThat bordered on imprisonment. With her, in arms,I faced the face of Death,And I spat in its face.…
-
There are moments I dearly wish to see the eyes That kept me in comfort. Those were the eyes I found to be brighter Than the very sun, Though, I could see them. I was not blinded to them, I was not withheld from looking Upon the iris, nor the dark pupil. In these moments,…
-
I have no right to speak To the one I have crippled. To the one I have slain, To the one I have drained Of all her tears, in the next day when she Will come to kiss death, And speak aloud to the open, Words that berate upon when I hear them, Words that…
-
“The poet chooses to walk all the roads of life, chooses to see something as appearing less pragmatic over how the average person perceives. The average person sees the string as merely a string. But, the poet will see the string as the depressed artist’s noose, or the last chance of a desperate love, or…
-
She gave into the choice, Not by what I offered, Ever offered To her cold and collapsed heart. The choice to seal a noose about her throat, The choice to strangulate the remaining love From the stillest ruby. From the ruby with the least gleam, The least shine, The least sheen. A little blackness hovered…
-
Let us start ourselves on a path Past the remembrances only seeped in the darkness. Dipped in the blackness of crudest oil That had polluted a current, so far back. I will love With many places to carve my name, For homes, and the shelters I build With hands made of iron. From spot to…
Modern Romanticism 