There’s no rain, but the wind blows and buffets and billows, like an intransigent wolf at my door. Cocooned in my chair and cold sweeps and seeps through joints, a lubricant of low viscosity oil. The fire inside is only … Continue reading Shade. A poem.
I’m just a stump By the road You took your axe And cut me Down to size Left me here Just a stump With not much To reflect on But passing traffic Erstwhile glances Just a stump Worn and threadbare … Continue reading Stump. A poem.
Perpetual, an endless sojourn, a continuum of unknowing. This electric chair does not ease the time as much as I would like. The thoughts that spiral in my brain are currents playing havoc with the depths of perpetuity, every outcome … Continue reading The Chair. A poem.
I wish sometimes I could open my head, take a scalpel in hand and then operate. Remove all the things that I just love to hate: things that make me odd, or a little irate, all the shadows I jump … Continue reading Operation. A poem.
Angel You descended from on high, an angel whose wings could fly no longer. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable and line structure. Cheers Steve 🙂 I write a lot of poems, some from my … Continue reading Haiku Friday: Angel. A haiku.
My memories and yours, burnt in effigy. They’re digital photos deleted from your phone. The flames lick at them, a contented aftertaste. They hang like meat, smoked and chargrilled. The funeral tailor delivers a final suit in charcoal. I write … Continue reading Effigy. A poem.
Strangers, friends, lovers, then strangers again. Lovers and strangers, but no longer friends. It seems it’s a cycle we’re doomed to repeat. A cycle of madness, one we just can’t escape. No matter how we try to break the cycle … Continue reading The Cycle. A poem.
When I read good poetry I want to write good poetry But my feeble affectations And wanton masturbations Pale to insignificance When compared to Browning, Whitman, Yeats I yearn to write good poetry The way I yearn to read good … Continue reading Poetry. A poem.
Dream in … Continue reading Disconnected. A poem.
Drive across the aimless asphalt, seeking ventures gained and lost. Your hand is soft in mine, the patina of your skin a road map of anxious lines and weary learnings. Today the sun and hills call forth, in a circus … Continue reading Day Trip. A poem.
She died that day, kept all inside, No longer daddy’s joy and pride. The little girl that love rejected, forgotten in her wayward stride. She turned to other things and men and they did have their way, but then she … Continue reading Party Girl. A poem.
Tragedy Tragedy is what those who deter from fate’s path call coincidence. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable and line structure. Cheers Steve 🙂 I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some … Continue reading Haiku Friday: Tragedy. A haiku.
Every thought is a mere grace note, a barely consumed pinpoint in a barely thought out world, an architectural nightmare of unplanned infrastructure and roads to nowhere. But every once in a while, that note combines into a chord, and … Continue reading Instrument of Thought. A poem.
Not the same, not the way it was before, even though it was nothing less and nothing more, it’s not the same. Just a shame it’s not like it was before, even though it could never be, of that I’m … Continue reading The Difference. A poem.
I can feel the jagged terrain of your knuckles on my face, the force of mountain slides delivered on winds of fury and ever-reckless contempt. Should I return the favour or turn the other cheek, as my saviour recommends? I’ll … Continue reading Punch Drunk. A poem.
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