Wingbeat of an eagle Moves the Azure of sky... Lonely day Living the silence Blue hour Dinnertime- My window opens To the stars Twilight breeze-- The shape of wind In the evening primrose Cicada songs Climb the Moonlit sky My wild dreams: Now there is a Stillness inside me. Midnight--- I spike my coffee With golden acoustics..
My compass-- The nib of my pen Pointing north On my paper The hues of silence; I hear my own Heartbeat..... Moonlight-- Cereus scents the night air: I sleep One breath At a time.... The synapse of heartstrings In the echo of The Milky Way- Dreams become Poetry...
when ink dries on paper
Like physical scars
violence becomes fire
The nib becomes a needle
Digging into your flesh
Tearing into vulnerability
Hopelessness of inevitability
The frailty of feminine strength
Abuse is ink that draws into your soul
Ink that shapes
unspoken words .. ellipses
Leaving you soulfully dead.
It's like living in a submarine Torpedoed in quarantine. Bacillus becomes a biometric A wake-up call going ballistic. Defying mother nature's laws Showcasing our human flaws. Binge buying panicky stockpiling All in all, my appetite is dying. Eating right, fighting fit Our system needs a health permit. Looks like an apocalyptic virus Giving man the price of being lifeless. A pandemic becoming a tragedy Epiphany for man's fragility.
a breath of love wraps me in its embrace... as i lie dreaming under scarlet and violet hues of subtle odors lingering in the satiny air.. i lie dreaming in the embrace of my reveries i dream as moonbeams fall on midnight dew brushing somnolent blooms glazing sleeping wings moonbeams glitter on a breath of love as it wraps me in its embrace like nuptials of a new day day and night twine at the witching hour.. a surreal bequeathing.. i feel a pain in my heart like an open wound i feel it bleeding before i drift off... and yet I live.. #vers libre
It’s almost like
I have wings to fly
I write so that my heart can survive I know that only poetry can revive. There are things I can't tell anyone They think I'm silly or just having fun. Writing keeps my sanity, helps me stay right Helping me not to give up without a fight. Like, a sorry is more than an emotion When hello becomes a goodbye, a teary solution. Maybe my heart is made up of glass Too fragile to face life's tough class. Grief is a bruise that pain cannot control I'll try to wear a band-aide on my soul. This poem looks for the right lines, words To convey all of the emotions stirred. I still feel short on what I have to say I think, I still found a way to, anyway. Maybe, this is not a poem at all Just my keyboard going for a spin , to sprawl.
My itsy-bitsy breath wakes To ignite the marrow of my soul Washing the pain of a pleading mind. I drift into a dreaming sky Where the moon slips past kliegs of stars: In the flickering scent of a blue silence Dew hangs on mòonbeams Caught in a Borealis song; Heartbeat of a copper night Cicadas chant a lore--a vintage beat Rhythm inked azuline Sequined, pencilled, on Lattice of Moonflowers Slipping into the quietude of anguish I tuck my dreams Under my pillow.....
She dated her hare They lay their hearts a-bare He writes, in rush With Michelangelo brush On easel with no inch to spare. But, shrieking with a shatter, Her cup goes splitter-splatter. The clumsy cursed That lovely versed Now latte's on the latter. To Venice on carrot stick, A charmed Gondola trick. On Grande-Canal Sing lover's chorale And guitars played double quick. But the night was getting late, His lyre induced headache. His heart-cloying His voice-annoying Arrivaderci, date.
I once met a sweetheart from "Perris" Who said, of which, she was the fairest. I gave love a chance And I sailed off to France. I ate pates alone now in "Paris". Once upon a time, there lived a bunny Who was charming, grey and funny. She chanced upon him in an email Where he turned into her fairytale But Warner never let their love prevail. Warner went to Paris in a Ferris. All he had were the 'pates' to cherish Together we ate Two bachelors commiserate. Of a bunny that hopped down to "Perris". The title credit goes to Jonathan Swift.