Tag: poem
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Autumn rain
The autumn rain falls sleepy on crinkled orange, strewn along the path, winding with no certain destination into the far horizon of the setting sun where fire meets fire and the world burns its wildest before the waning sun ushers cold slumber and all is covered in white sound
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The word human
I, what is– ‘I’? I call myself the word ‘human’ But, what is human? Not the word but the thing itself? Am I the thing itself? Or that which says this is ‘I’? But, what says ‘I’? What is I? What is I? I, I, I, caw-caw, a crow crows.
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A willow spills her joy
There in the glade, a willow spills her joy in the wind shaking left and right like a slow dream It spreads through the underbrush a hush, a spell that beckons— A roe nimbly floats through the soft curtain of quiet rain and I,sit on a bench, entranced, a specter, a ghostly figure who forgets…
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Begging hands
even when you shy away The stars still sparkle on you even when you stiffen your shoulder The clouds still wrap, wool around you even when you turn away your face The boughs still weigh down unto your cheeks catching dews And the sun and moon still kiss your brow under your cloak And the ground…
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Daughter’s cry
O Father, why have you beaten Mother away The lands are dry, and your children crawl whipped by your words that direct no man but broken backs O Father, your great hand has nothing to guide no sunlight reflected, and no sunflowers dancing to you for the rivers of Mother run dry she has sunk…
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I will love you till I hate you Hate you till I love you Love you till I hate you To and fro fro and to The pendulum swings The pendulum sings no wind stills it— My heart is a dancer.
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Fire that glares.
Fistful of blackness I swallow, swallow with an insatiable need I’m afraid the rage, the fire that glares at the ink Defiant has me crackling under the skin. How I laugh at my audacity, yet here I am Here I am swallowing fistful of blackness to my own fiery demise… …embers sparks jagged tongue What…
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The cry.
My soul leaks through the gullet of my eyes I fear my place has scattered across time, washing up on unlikely shores that plaintively call for a place beyond place And I, the unheard cry
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Ruins, ruins.
A glimmer on the night lake doused in flames A crescent moon’s smile torn asunder Flushed rose petals crushed underfoot Feathered caress frostbitten tip A bird’s song snapped with a twist Ruins, ruins by a bat of an eye brave of heart is one that melts in the forge. . . .
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Cool warmth.
Mirrors curtained in wet drapes peering through crystals, lights stretched to the night skies, apples reddened in the frigid air. One more fat snowflake on a whimsy descent cool kiss its deathbed . . .
MindWraith 