The Periled Point
There is, perhaps, a periled point,
Where, lost and dazed, you cannot turn;
But tilt your eyes, and tear a glance
Behind, toward the grainy shore.
Only the path, the sea before
The fragile prow, the rotting craft;
Prowling below, hushed by the sky,
Salt kisses on your paling hands.
Thirsty mirage conjures the sands.
They rise beneath the foaming waves,
Echo your thirst and mock your eyes-
The luscious islands undulate.
But still you falter, taste the bait,
Clear water sleeping on your tounge.
Trapped by static infinity,
Time fails; the end is swift and long.
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Crying, crying, crying
Crying, crying, crying,
Wailing wild and long.
A lilting mist of lamentations,
Anguishing, screaming strong-
Unbearable, broken song!
Leave your keening,
Stem your grieving.
Your sons will yet return.
But mourn too much and watch too little,
Soon the city’s all a-burn,
Only embers left to yearn
For the chicks gone flying.
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(1 votes, average poem rating: 4 out of 5)
Sandy Hands
A tracing hand
Betrays the dust
On cracking sand.
A baking band
Of steaming rust,
A tracing hand
That fights the scan
Of vying lust
On cracking sand.
Leaves you a strand
Of thinnest trust,
A tracing hand.
You’re breathing land,
So sit and cuss
On cracking sand.
No time for fuss,
You flail away.
A tracing hand
On cracking sand.
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(1 votes, average poem rating: 5 out of 5)
Mirrored Mass
In the mirror, in the glass
Eyes locked open to the sky
Dumbly creeps the watching mass
Yellow in the waning cast
Of the sun, now arching wide
In the mirror, in the glass
Feet crushing the dying grass
Barely brushing with a sigh
Dumbly creeps the watching mass
Shuffling down the narrow pass
Blind to bluffs on either side
In the mirror, in the glass
The crystal cracks, shines hard and crass
Like an icy winter tide
Dumbly creeps the watching mass
Not one rushes, not one hides
Bitten by the webbing frost
In the mirror, in the glass
Dumbly creeps the watching mass
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 5 out of 5)
Far too long
Far too long
Since my pen
Scratched a song
Like a hen
Picking seed
From the grass
Feathers gleam
Like old brass
Long since time
That I sat
Spit a rhyme
Like a cat
Hairballed words
Ticking out
No weird curves
Not a doubt
Too long since
My pen primed
Took the hints
Of my mind
Now I scritch
Even scratch
Poet’s itch
On my back
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Tummy
Aching quicksand
Throbbing vacuum
Echoing abyss
Rumbling cave
Roaring beast
Arid desert
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 3.5 out of 5)
Mirror, Signal, Stall.
I cut people up at the roundabout,
I stall in first as a rule.
I think my instructor’s on Xanax,
I don’t blame him, I would be too.
I indicate left when I turn right,
Don’t listen to what my instructor is saying.
I think he’s just gone to his happy place,
Jesus Christ, is he praying?
I don’t bother checking my blind spot,
I’m forever forgetting my mirrors.
My breaking is whiplash inducing,
And I’ll never nail these manoeuvres.
I have no idea what ‘tyres to tarmac’ is,
I fly out of blind junctions in second.
I ride the clutch ‘cause it’s easier,
This sh&t’s harder than I first reckoned.
I’m going out again tonight,
Say a prayer for every road user’s soul.
I’m pretty sure the L stands for lunatic,
Thank the Lord for duel control.
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 4.5 out of 5)
12:05 AM
I stand at the wall with my face by the glass
fantasizing about the future
thinking about the past
The night is still and the single streetlight
glows in the quiet
nothing living in sight
And my breath is warm but the air is cold
while I breathe out life
and let my fears unfold
And I realize the things that I hoped I would
realizing revelations
are often misunderstood
Another new question with each beat of my heart
and another answer
lost in the dark
Reaching for solutions to make this all make sense
wishing that my thoughts
weren’t all in past tense
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 4.5 out of 5)
Help me remember.
I wish that this bruise on my neck would last forever
just so I could remember exactly how it got there.
I wish that I had a recording of your voice
so I could remember the exact way you said my name.
I wish that I had a piece of your clothing
so I could remember exactly the way you smell.
I want to remember the way your ring felt against my fingers when we held hands
I want to remember the scratch of your beard against my face
I want to remember the feeling of your chest against mine.
I want to remember the way you would hold me and ask me why my heart was beating so fast
because you could feel my pulse throughout my body.
I want to remember the way I tried to find yours
but always failed, so you had to guide my fingers.
I want to remember the way we would stand together
and not have to say anything at all.
I wish I could remember everything
because then maybe it would seem like you were still here.
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 5 out of 5)
“When the world looks back, when the face looks after that”-Sufjan Stevens
It is where
Laughing and smiling and exist
Where sparkling water can be seen for miles
Where you and I talk for hours
It is where
We explored
And found the forbidden
We dove into water as free fish and came up with hooks
Never to be removed
It was where
it started
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(2 votes, average poem rating: 4.5 out of 5)