Tag: Free Verse Poetry
Carpe Piscinam
Incongruity is worn like A kimonoSplashing, swimming in the heat A back drop of goldenrod In its prime And the smell of crab applesFallen under the trees School in session As summer slowly Loses its grip.Welcome to Autumn.September Shadows
A void slithers into himLeisurely consuming his soulDarkness leaching into his veinsTurning his eyes into black holes Time passing slowlyMemories beginning to fadeSunset now representingA life now lacking flare Finding its way to his heartHis vacant globesTaking in the fiery yet peaceful setting sunFlooding his soul with light Breathing new lifeDemolishing the anguishTransforming into it ...The Mind
My mind feels like a puzzle Made from pieces I’ve found along the way Not a complete set And with no picture to speak of. Sitting here with a rattled mind Wondering what I should do Doing everything in my power To distract myself from what I’m supposed to do I always wonder why I ...Aching Love
The heat from your lips starts to warm my body from within, I arch my back from your gentle touch, The restraints kept me in place, I’m bounded to this bed by your aching love and your gentle touch.Phrenology Of Shadows And Light
Illuminated skull Misshapen by shadows Casting a gaunt face Held tightly against the bones By shimmery tacks of light A hollow vessel, for nothing, resides Where shadows hide Unilluminated, darkened by the increasing black shadows Stealing peace of mind Agitation in the jaw Grinding broken teeth Like shattered glass Embedded in the gums and the ...Scotland’s Heretic Queen
What wretchedness ‘Tis to be born the wrong sex ‘Specially, so if one’s royalty and that’s what befell Queen Mary of Scotland just a wee lass crowned at six months old harried over the border to her betrothed Francis petted and pampered beautiful Queen of France. Though the fates would deny this union of happy ...- EnvironmentHealth & WellnessLifestyleCultureCreativityParenting & FamilySelf-Help & RelationshipsPoetryMemoir & Autobiographies
Curtain Call
Fingertips of day are losing their grip. Pink horizons darken the sound of a saxophone fades. Stars poke through the black curtain like pinholes in the fabric of time, the moon hovers benign and besmirched its surface pocked and shaded. Silence is golden. But there will be no riches tonight screeching interrupts my ...
