Romanticism
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Let me loose. Whatever spillsshould be as dark as this chosen midnight,over a page as white as emptied clouds,turning fair, equal,at daylight’s stream. I run, though I have walked.I have attempted to talkwithout words passing throughthose ears that never absorbedmeaning for what remainedto trail, behind themlike chains, like stains along that path,paved with blinded, black
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Deep seas, closing wounds.Endless paragraphs for morepages to this uncertainty.A time to hurt. A time to disconcert.Another time for flowers to closebefore petals can rush downstream,dropped from a mother’s arms. I can hold hope open like a book,with its mere cover as a shield,emptied of details from within.I can burn no pages,choosing to conceal tearswith
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Poem #1 “Weeping among Feathers” Apart from the sun,As the seasons come undoneTo reveal where teardrops fellAs anchors to the fetid mist.Your arms in the rain,In the attempt to drench the pain. Tied together in savage looseness,While winter ceases the hailThat Springtime had called down – Upon your displayed frown.You forever wish to decayMore than
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A final smileTumbled off, in the mile.Do you believe in weatherWithout the sun to smother?There is rain to collect,A scent to breatheUpon the cracked doorstep. Without the sunYou can hide with me,Before you run,Playing in the filth,When the flowers wilt. You were the value lostFrom a heart with shattered veins.You cried from the mountaintop,Signalling ruin
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A doomed area setting west,While teardrops rise within the east.You are the moon, down upon my breast,Fading songs into the silent feastWith winter’s tears to linger.Among saucers to drooping candles,Death goes to noticeYour crippled, weathered form. I bring up the soundLeaving the music of night unsung.Silent, in the faces wornViolent, with the fingers torn. Death
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For fewest glimpsesFor tears that strayAside, for the life of mineThat bleeds a dewdrop too heavyFrom hanging eyelids. For a little warmthFrom a glass that shot meOn the crossroads, of painstakingLife in the fragile glimpseThrough reflection uponLost warmth,Drowned in circles – Upon eyesThat wept for the sunrise,Fell for the settingTo another deceased day. Another drunken
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Soulless,Pitiable child,Whose hands are bloodiedNot by the wounds from presentAnd incurable circumstance,Though from experiences not metWith a future that creptOn the horizon,Not to the child’s blinded eyesAnd their missing awareness. Loss of this kindKnows no motherhood.A heart that gained lightBecame dark by the same sunrise,When nothing was ever thereTo pull back the stareTo a wakened
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Do not driftWithout the solid kissUpon the greatest pair of lipsTo speak words that siftIn ashes that leakedFrom eyes deserving of joy. I want to curl your formIn these pair of arms,Walk with youTo a Heaven away from Hell,To a place you were grievingYourself from believing. To stop you from leaving,I will wield you beneathMoon
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Watching the mile become the sensation,In light of your beginningWhere all roads become the journeyWithin your never-ending grief.Evading the sounds of your resignation,While words enter as deliberation.Weeping stones from melting breathIn all that recedes to bottomless death. An ocean breaks the current we met.We reach the ice on edges of cut fingers,Stagnating the pain that
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How many eyedropsOf deceptionCan be what leaves the markUpon the resurrecting spark?We make the drama believableWhat with every chainThat binds us. To each scarBirthed upon the abdomen,For each faded painWe thought had closedIts connection,To seal ourselves into turmoilLost uponVeins in the frozen soil. A lost hourEngirdled in an unneeded,Blanketing embrace.The wielder shows their current,Drawn from
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Down, you fallTo abode, fullIn your symptomsFor salvation’s call.A pair of dropletsCease their declineFrom radiant eyes,So dark. A keepingTo what is weepingInside of you,The less you give up,The more to cling uponWith departure to each noteYou had ever spoke.To speak, again. Teardrop,Blood droplet.A sight upon what leaves,With no apparent grief.True to heartFor those who depart,While
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However we are,Weeping beneath stars?Holding how fragileOur tongues have crossedOn the kissEveryone missed. How the climbTo leave, what is kept behind,Made us more apartThan ever the seeds kept spreadingFor the lucid sakeOf dreamlike discovery. We’ll lift,Same as we’ll driftWith oceans torn apart,For the lands to contain belittlementFor the triumphOf nothing saved, for the glance. We’ll
Modern Romanticism 