Writing
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As griefPossesses voice,Like the crossed showersGlistening to the tearsUpon my streaming face.White-wilted flowersForm their stems,To never the regrowthOf more petals,For I cannot love moreThan ever I did her. Like voiceGiven to the rain that poursLove, through my storming heart,As thunder bellows of a throatSo rawTo the stained vintageOf a thousand photographs of deceit,That a love…
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How can heState his fateWith only air to gripIn empty palm?The pain that has sunkHis heart into a stoneHas been squeezedOf every last tear.Just a man,Only a manWho wears no crown,With his queenLooking down. His face curves,His shoulders burnOf their residue.Just blank ashesThat cannot remember from whereThey fell.Love, he seesOf her,In the trees,Faint winds carrying…
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Grief stills meIn dying sleep,For I have drunk too many tearsTo see where my yearsShall carry me.My fingers liftTo feel the warmth of a fading sun,To bleed caught sorrowsOver the evening’s forsaken tomorrows. Some stilled picture,Some glimmering reflectionOf her, in the skyWhere darkness can mimic my pledge,My vowAs nowMy lips are always buriedIn the soil,…
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Oh, radiationOf your head to your arms,You have become won.Like leaves that have met the sun,In autumnal tempestsOf sorry rain to reach the streets,Of droplets from your faceTo cover your hands.You can twistStrain from your eyes,You can mergeYour petals with the gravelAs you lay to writhe. Just a closureTo a standing truthThat you have formed…
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Poem #1 “Due for the Delicate Kiss” Due, and overdueFor the delicate kiss, upon a mouthThat gapes with the sighsBlown free, like seeds off a dandelionIn the month of May.I hold your neck,I kiss your flesh,Velvet and soft, as it shimmers in the sunrise.I breathe over youThe devotion I have been meaningTo release.I bleedLove upon…
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Blood-red leafletsOf autumnal scribblingsShower praises,Staunch phrases,Leave pagesUntied of her demise,Loosened of her chosenLife,And to the grave where sheKeeps her silence,I have grown a blood-redRose. BleedingHeavy tracesWhere cutting fleshIs for the facesWearied by shock,Toiled of the painter’s smock,Captured by the wandering clockThat drowns scentOf blood, in iron wellsWhere I can rise,And she can drown.This, too, I…
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Despite me,You can riseOn wings folded by fire,Through eyes,That despite meCan rinse the terrors freeTo a glance of so much becomingNature,Lifting freeThe stains that have lasted. Despite me,You can swingFrom edge to edge.You can empty me,So that you can join the solace,Of a time awayWhere my yearning takes place.I simply longFor my failures to never…
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How long until Heaven holds usWithin wings that can shelterOur oldest night?We have beauty racing everywhere,Where majesty falls,As love can be for the shine upon the templeThat says,“Tomorrow is forever.”How can love die?How can it? You were toldThat death could ceaseAll things to be.You were toldThat our eyes cannot seeThe dreams that can one day…
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I crawlFrom graves that remindMe, of the agonyThat took you, alive.As I acheI will remain to breakWith arms that squeeze the lifeFrom me,As I saw youWith eyes that failed the sunlight,And a heart that was lostIn the plummeting dark. Like two steps aroundYour carved, broken heart,I fell alongThe stingThat fate brings. I see what love…
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Reveal to meWhat can fall throughSilver clouds, and silver moon.Reveal to meAll I can catch for the timeless chordsChiming until the meadow’s end.For when you reveal to meYour eyes black as the night,I know you cannot reveal to meThe little things we both cried for. Reveal to meYour bosom for the consumptionOf Heavenly droplets of…
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To those who would fail you,Realize the wordIn that I love you.For why your rain stops,I have caught tearsIn hands that have shared yours,Beside the lakes where dreamsCan be extinguished,Where liesCan be made our agonies.I have held youIn worlds apart. Sickness and rain,While life grows from a fragile teardrop,There is the here,As here is the…
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“Were a person to believe respect as automatic, then they confuse it for love. It is always that a person wishes to be noticed, making them inevitably in yearning for love. Respect, however, is always earned, because were it not, we could respect anyone. We could loosely ‘respect’ the psychopath, and their ways. We could…
Modern Romanticism 