Inspiration

Mes mots dans ce rêve.

The likeness of snow-covered heaps on desert-searing nights
Of a scathing wind that cursed a name and brought it
By the crook of a deserted nest sunbathed by bare hands,
Seducing a whistle to the primeval waters that shoehorn rocks
Reflected with an awakening flutter within a cold room
With lip of ice and loitering hill sides by a pale tide,
blistering with mercy;

His eyes.

Leopard’s paws
white like scolecite stones
faceted to fingernails
to the death of the wild,
a resemblance to a beast

“Ophilia” By a.d.matthias.

Cecilia paused. She could never remember their names. Perhaps she is never told; perhaps she is made to forget. Briefly wondering how many have come and gone, she then decides that names are ultimately inconsequential, before lamenting sotto voce, “What’s in a name…”

Collaboration Poem Completed.

Upon the dark winged azure, the dream invites
Light freedom from long ago; the tumult births mankind, and through my lips,
I will have recognized the shadows beyond the world,
With eyes among the laurel leaves, I see tears upon the rowan fields

Poem Collaboration! (Closed).

I’m holding a collaboration open for all to create a group poem together. It is not a contest, but rather an event we can all do together during these dark times of the world. Perhaps, this could help promote positivity in the midst of it all. Perhaps, we can meet new writers here from this collaboration and discover different pieces of writing. In a way, it doesn’t have to feel so socially distant.

Tyranny.

your laugh
like a poison
to surge, the chill
when you look at me;
the dust of the horizon
shapes cruelty.

They murder with a kiss.

Plucked in each verse, red for shame,
Desire is cold, bridled by Webster’s obsession with death
With a text that clutches and folds,
Anguish, anguish in the flesh

We’ve lived nothing as a dream.

I wake to the darkest light; the marshes cry in the mist,
And my eyes fix to the shaking of the wind, grazing the footfall by the permafrost,
It is a maddening world out there—the roads beaten, unlit,
Crawling of a cedar’s blood
Slaved in an undressed pottery polished in white lines

Like forever meets the mist.

Flocked as ghosts, as words of humanity undressing in a torn darkening mist
And there is not a forever, we must surrender as the dazzle of the sky blurs in starlit
Blood fall days when the moon is stuccoed with white