You abstain in the light At night, small confessions Are saltwater wreaths Around your neck Dragging you along In a relegated riptide. This abstinence Has carved a furrow And driven conversations With shadows and mosquitoes Wondering when the light will … Continue reading Abstinence. A poem.
I thought I’d mend some fences Build them up to break them down Fill in all the trenches Dig the mines up from the ground I thought I’d build some bridges And meet you in the middle No more complex … Continue reading Fences. A poem.
Why the sadness, the music tugging at heartstrings in pizzicato fashion, stretching my angst beyond reproach? Why the darkness, flowing in a syrup-like tsunami, to swallow my horizons and the shoulder I’ve hung my head upon? This rhythm and rhyme … Continue reading The Music in Me. A poem.
via Save the Poet! Like my poetry? For poems you haven’t seen before, try The All or the Nothing, my first book. It’s available now, in print and e-book formats. Click on the link above to find out how to … Continue reading Save the Poet!
The tears keep me awake at night; they burn my eyes and ducts, sodden flames licking, smoke broiling, consuming the room of my head until I’m fit to choke on all the pointless condescension, spluttering, unkempt, raw and misbegotten. Soaked … Continue reading The Pantomime. A poem.
Don’t you tire of the same old thing? A less-than-subtle rehashing, a troublesome re-treading, a more meagre repetition of what’s come and gone before. Finally time to Uproot all those Common thoughts and Kill them dead. Your groove has become … Continue reading Rehasher. A poem.
Head down Black entrails entwined Around my throat Choking the life And whispering Sweet nothings Of mindless contempt The residue of years Of churning anger The spittle of malice And undisputed loathing Clawing its way Up from within Until it’s … Continue reading Sweet Nothings. A poem.
Succinct and retrospect, mercury lines connecting dots, snaking and entwined, ‘tween valleys and hills, pooling at the feet: drowned confetti dreams. I write a lot of poems, some from my head, some from my heart. Many don’t appear on this … Continue reading Tears. A poem.
And as I slowly died inside within the canny matrices of my mind, I came to understand it all everything I’d ever been done and seen, as if every strand was a flower bud opening for the first time. And … Continue reading Died Inside. A poem.
Nostalgia On my mind A keepsake Turn it over In my hands A snow globe Filled with memory And the dust Of fickle years And absent foes Now long forgotten But present still I write a lot of poems, some … Continue reading Nostalgia. A poem.
Third Degree Caustic heart branding third degree burns on my soul. Tell me again—why? 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: Third Degree. A haiku.
My hurt My tears … Continue reading Surburbia. A poem.
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.
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.
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