My Response

These hands have grown old,Having done nothing worthwhile,But write loveless poetry. My eyes grow weary,Having shed so many tears,You're hardly worth the pity. My heart is heavy,Having borne so many hurts,It's now a knot of old scars. Then rejoice, old friends,Winter is a time for rest,A brief relief from the pain.

Premonition 2022

The new dream this year,Scattered like the morning mist,With my first stirring,Leaving behind false feelings,Like bloodstains left by kisses.

Remember Oblivion

The clock ticks the seconds towards nothing,As my heart beats out the rhythm of lost dreams,The eternal pulse towards hopeful oblivion,Measured as retreating tides towards a faraway horizon,Where my memories of you refuse to die. My dearest love gave me the timepiece,Broken now, although the message remains,Dull etchings in tarnished brass:"Time not wasted, only borrowed … Continue reading Remember Oblivion →

Discarded Tinsel

It's the winter cold,That cuts the most,Reminding me of old,Of efforts like ghosts,Gone like my breath,Caught upon this chill,Fluttering to its death,Like such discarded tinsel. Once lustrous, boldly gleaming,Now faded beyond glory,Having lost all meaning. Prompt: from the kind writers over at the pub, dVerse, “Tinsel” as part of their Quadrille Series #142. Always a pleasure … Continue reading Discarded Tinsel →

Retirement Strategies

I've struggled to see,The sunset of my career,As anything more than death. Honored teacher says,"A righteous man finds his peace,Only as a hollow corpse." My thoughts grow foggy,Like the wooded path leadingTo this idle hermit's home. For once in your life,Be content with well-earned sleep,And rest on your laurels, fool.

A god Am I?

Fistfuls of my clay,Puddling into mountains of disuse,While my exasperation springs forthWintry gusts of air. I wonder what they will say,The denizens of this place,Of their absentee landlord?

Third Eye

I'm a tightly-wound knot of fear,Silently growing,Ever the smaller,Yet ever the denser,Like a cancer that grows inward,A gleaming pearl of horror,Lodged deep withinThe center of my mind.

As long as it takes

My fingers curl and spasm,Unable to stitch together these fragments,My imagination, my memories,Into a single breath of time,So I'll wait,Until the pain passes,As long as it takes.

Listen to my Music

Loosely I lift memories,My mind's little music,From lilting melodic lullabies,To the morbid lucidities,of mindless maladies,Murmuring lifelessly,Luring madness lightly,Murdering light likely,Lyrical membrane lo -Until I cannot recall how it goes.

Such cold roots

I buried myself in verdant leaves,Which grew damp in crimson dreams,And with the taste of winter on the breeze,I find comfort in these faint memories,Lost now in deep roots of ancient ash trees.