#poets
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BlossomedCrater,Full of smog to renewalOf eyes, in Mother EarthWho criesA tear, left to be ignored. A heartDriven to find SpringIn the deepest shapes,The broadest colors,Capturing sublime decadenceBeyond the curtainTo the everything, within. Call her near,Mother Earth who sinks in Winter,That she might see her sceneryArranged in hair,Ringed on fingersWithered to the fate of dismissal. Keep
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It cannot endBy how we die,Holding blankets as tightlyAs we do with roses,Slicing palms with the venomOf thorns.What comfortCan shield the ailingAnd betrayed heart? We cannot spillEnough to feel the passingOf the releaseOf life, to the teardropsLeft to raise the smallest orchard,Left to constrain the smallest footstepTo lead us forward. It rains during our sunrise,As
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Measure feelingThat is crossed by a sealingOf a heart, upon the currentsThat fall from decaying eyes. We swarm ourselvesWith the faintest lies,Call ourselves debrisWithout coming to see,Without coming to believeIn what did leave. Death topples towersThat bloodied hands surely built.We sign the marks of braveryTo enter war, to entertain slavery. We loveIn the remaining grief,While
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Poem #1 “Awaiting Fog” TranslateThe thicknessAround your eyes.Smother your discomfortWith ease and surrender,For defeat to shedAshes to your toes. Dance with the deepest sighsTo plume from reddest lips.Give finalityTo each falling grace.Grab your basketFull of the scenery you plucked,To birth taste, from your tears. Drunk on sorrows,Amorous with your fears.Laid there, not curvingTo the unkind
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Save the worldFrom simple imagery.As loss falls togetherWith loss,Some sighs were breathedAs though nettedBy the oneWho gave the last kiss. To graves, full of burialFor tears to water the gardenWhere life beginsTo churn, as a soft petalLoses its gripTo become the pillowTo smother the eyesOf a wilted corpse. Some sighs were never heard,As some windsAre
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TranslateThe thicknessAround your eyes.Smother your discomfortWith ease and surrender,For defeat to shedAshes to your toes. Dance with the deepest sighsTo plume from reddest lips.Give finalityTo each falling grace.Grab your basketFull of the scenery you plucked,To birth taste, from your tears. Drunk on sorrows,Amorous with your fears.Laid there, not curvingTo the unkind memoriesThat leave you open.
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ConcealedStain, upon the blank shore,Where your mouth was.A singular kissDrawn to the sand,Crawling to the land,Flown freeFrom unfolded hands. Simplest imageryOf unbroken symmetry.Symbols of languageBled from bandaged hearts.Sickness and disuseOf bodies severely limpingBackwards, on a ropeTo dual helpless faces. You can createThe sentencesFor our distant recollection,Placing eyes to the falling skies,Leaking sin from our pores.By
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White summerWhere stillness engulfs the spiritOf a mother, with her eyesNailed to the lids,As a casketNails her form to the earth. Weeping was all the worldCould release,Of rain, silver in its puddlesFormed at the feetOf those who dulled their sorrowIn bleakest disbelief. The kindnessOutstretched, from armsThat yet trembled,Laid there, upon shouldersAs if waiting for waterTo
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Able to hear the whispersBlown from kissesAcross a feeble lake,Full of your tears, you onceHeld in broken arms,Leaking contagionFrom your ruined heart. It is the love,Purely the loveSwallowed as the bitter wineWith the second tasteOf sweet remembrance. Compromised memoriesAs faint petals,Long broken from the stem,Carrying still the scentOf something entrancing. Unable to resignWith the signature
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Walking on soft tracksBack to the armsOf where you began.Eyes that look for lightIn the wings, still burning. To kiss your lifeBack into warmth,I will fold greater softnessUpon the hard edgesOf your mortality. Look to the infinite,There is not much to witnessOf the sun,When eyes turn away.I am here, when the clouds gather. Find your
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Lost,Yet drowningIn the sparkle of your eyes,Holding wounds open,So wild, firm in bleedingMy aura to you,Hoping your heart beatsTo the same rhythmAs these footsteps to the future. Further, I wadeTo hold you, in sweeping arms,Never to scorn youFrom lips, made to burnUpon your mouth. Hush, my love,For the feverHas only woken youFrom the moon,From its
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Forever,The feelings gallopTowards the moon’s many faces.Holding hands in a twist,Of dual thorns, growing the rose,Dropping the ashesFrom petals, in the dusk. Entwined, we surgeWith the fears, in the love,Birthing newborn oceansFrom eyes,Staining hands,Though kissingIn crystallized rain. SensationCurves about you,Beauty of watery Neptune.Of flesh I have sculpted,Of bones, where you feelVulnerable, in the ache. I
Modern Romanticism 