Wept in the death of Gods, darker still in the gathering ocean, with only tears that fall to them, in the red hyssop of the frost inclined to the penetralium of desire, as the ocean slips no fate by its sea song to kill empty, the abscission of leaf falls like glass we could not fall together as we once had, the very shock … Read More Planetary motion.
I broke away from the ocean, in through our eyes, the waves at high tides, the roccia parts and splits where Moses split the Red Sea. In the womb of wind, limbs and bones outline the fading star, and the world seemed to drown in yellow velleities of loneliness. Eyes to the dream, an echo, a bang in aqueous shivers, bled … Read More into loneliness.
A temblor, a rock by which is drawn together by the little tree in arms of darkness May darkness; in the blue perch of the eve, to sleep in the burial of the star, A leaf falls pooled on its legs; ersatz silence in a mind with a hole in it, which un-dreams the deep dark, in the … Read More te amo.
has died, beautiful dreamer; the sea is a language of loneliness, legs struck in the waves to the break of oaks and I finally arrived to the holes in the ocean, to in a dream I’ve left behind. A/N: Written in response to the Go Dog Go Cafe’s prompt: Use “beautiful dreamer” in a piece of poetry or prose.
It would always end this way. The onslaught of the cold bites in my face raking silence to the foreshore to the leave-taking of winter pleas with sorrow and penances alone That trace abandoned into neurological thoughts, into weaves of ice that coalesces the ambrosial sunset (in which that dies) in father’s sea. It transmits into my eyes as my tears start to slip … Read More I moved in the effervesce of the sea. (Prose)
Who cares what we eat?Just calming stomach’s heatExtra spicy , fried and sweetBe it eating or doing a cheat? Who cares what we eat?Overweight is common sightGlucose, lipids are at heightsAre we losing our health rights? Who cares what we eat?Gain cash at stake of fitDrain cash to regain itAre we fooling our intellect? Who cares what we eat?Pills might be diet nextGifting ills … Read More “Who cares what we eat?” by Navnidhi Vyas.
Leopard’s paws white like scolecite stones faceted to fingernails to the death of the wild, a resemblance to a beast, a blaze of light, and to the gods, their hand in life and death; feral blood, extinction, a feeling of a dream in crystal architect reading the skylight, gathering life in the leaves during the summer months. In the leaves and illume from the … Read More His eyes.
“This friendship will self-destruct when you open that box,” Katie says as she hands me a box and waits for a response. I wonder what this means, what is so important in this little box. Do I dare open it? I don’t want to lose her as a friend. We’ve been through a lot together: medical crises, boyfriends, girlfriends, her parent’s divorce. I don’t … Read More “The Box” by Kimberly Ray.
Down the corridor, comes a scream Was it physical pain or the horror of finally learning the way this game is turning They took your clothes gave you a gown there was nothing to do but lay right down Now, the machine breathes for you hung by a thread and leaving soon Faint flashes behind tired eyelids recalled moments from a busy life; the … Read More “Renee By A Thread” by Tom Alexander.
A/N: This poem is dedicated to my mother, along with this instrumental I created to go along with it. I am adjunct to birth and death. Undraped, I emerge from womb—a pupa I barely cried, it was a spring birthday when it should have been an aqueous summer dream. Sense flees me before the world even spins, a dimension of then nothing to a shiver … Read More Mother.
Hello everyone. First of all, I want to thank each and everyone one of you for your participation on my blog—through each like, comment, reblog, and submission—it has not been unnoticed. I thank everyone for giving me the encouragement to keep writing and posting, along with helping me keep this blog alive. I thought I would have to put a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) … Read More Poem Collaboration! (Closed).
Winter falls away, traces never ending like the tattered twilight alone; the serpent’s blood betrays the sea of lovers that fall upon the memory one by one. In blue wailing of the sea glare white diffused with ivory bone meeting the whisper of cold silence, the exile of our ghosts, the depth of language when there is none, void of light on the tombstone … Read More Traces by the horizon.