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.