Then, was enslaved in your sheathin a bosom of appearing angelic roars;hosting daringly with perfectlygroomed verses, ofyour patterns of inflictionsUnfold me; mold me!I am available for yourdesiring wraths.Untame me, hold me,I am yearning whollyto see your demogorgonsSuspended in waves I shook my petalsbrightly fair to raid your waging pedalsConsole my hungerto behold in your slumberConsole… Read More “My Symphony of Angelical Pain” by Benyin.
When the quiet hits the roomLike a silent bomb, it arrivesAnd in the silence- a lonely feelIt comes in a pretty disguise. And as you sigh, releasing breath,The day washes right away.But silence in never ending formSometimes brings sadness your way. It can make you think of happier timesOr even the struggles you’ve facedIt can… Read More “Silence” by FromtheHeart.
Memory elides into the eyes there (let it die) in the sloth of dreams, it is a protest against the ice shadow of what the fuck were we thinking under the frail permanence of memory, this stir dislocated into cracked lilacs red born as species, the earth moves the rock. The ocean shivers each broken… Read More Memory.
Phantoms drift midst deep dusk light timeless and summer, but never settle. Gray, shadowed and peaceful faint impressions rust like old sun faded paintings on the brick of an antique building. Unclear Regardless With each touch, the surface crumbles Chips of paint and dust clatter to a debris cluttered sidewalk. The more I try to… Read More “Undefined” By Brand.
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… Read More Traces by the horizon.
lost in mania traffic the struggle of mind teeming with cigarettes escaping the birdsong as the dark leaves fall onto the cherry blossoms silently with bloodshed, caressed to dreams in the awakened winter, arak trees. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. A/N: Title derived from this poem.
illustrated in millenniums where our scars fall, while silence deranges sanctity in the deep spines and limbs of animals I can almost remember; the landscape fire sleeps lingering in a land from god, watching often on the shore as we become held to the distant sacrifice of the memory; as the ocean is pierced with… Read More Skeletons.
In an age of watching… through a mind suffice in icy tombs; What word through our own, to have finally sought the black star that was the world we lived sleepless. And, awake. Drifting… Silence bare on the dark mid-sea. The peony masking light… Read More Awake (Draft).
The fields sluiced with rain on the leafing of memory, On each rock and scree living in the Appalachian breeze. The mind of frost crusted in the corbeil undressing in the air. Where is our consciousness? The bluster of stone streaked in corrupt minds on the last… Read More The last mask of winter.
“where the dead walked and the living were made of cardboard.”—Ezra Pound. The apparition paradise projects onto streets like death, into the turn of the mountain Forward on its side where ice fell and mingled leaf-like into the ocean In pure rhythm like a God in kinship with free tamed with the ice-cold Be it… Read More They had gone.
Hidden in senses, we, alone, are disenchanted in the sleep blue mist, as an expanse of ghosts and dreams never had. Leave behind our minds, the dispensation of a white trance in the universe; leave behind the resinous trees secreting mist where no space is left. The shadows of our mind, displaced in amber, consumed… Read More Hidden.
My tears are only droplets Into a sea of grief Despite my cloudy tears I see, there above The night sky is clear Despite my inner gloom I see, there above A bright crescent moon Despite my blinding wonder I see, there above She’s cradling a shining star Note from the author Ivor Steven: My friends… Read More “Tonight In the Dark” By Ivor Steven.
Do not look at the black night In the whitecap of the storm, And then when it comes to dreams, Do not speak of them to me For I lived in the years before. Strands in the lust of blood Into the twilit road at night The first fleet dead, slayed At Octavian’s feet, And it… Read More Black rivers.
Photo prompt response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #69 Word count: 101. As though the sleep mist has trembled in my hands In the distant overflows of shadows, Descending in lament, These shadows of our lament; We walk into the light, We walk to drown in celestial darkness, Our nourishing gardens In chrome-like bowls of red… Read More Dreams we’ve never had.
A feather lifts into the asters, Made known to the wind Teeming with a protestation Of what awaits to be quelled Eternally in this infinity, This sacrifice that slips from the dark, Settles into a river barely seen. Permeating from frosty caresses Sliding off the rock, And back into the cool, The bare of winter,… Read More Eternal.
In the early dark, Intermingled stirs shake and shake Between the round uncertainty in the uprooted flesh, It is mid-winter where there are blue peacocks, And ringing dunes that carry onto the bearers of ice In our face like waves, receded with flickers That are evasive in our bones with ferity Void of discovering dreaming,… Read More Early dark.
Strangled in shades, like caved falling fingers by the creeping river Plunged too brightly in the shadows forever, like forever meets the mist In the emptiness of the humming autumn red fruited and lowly kissed On the swath of land, haunts them, hunts them in the dwelling giver Of promised rapture, the vowel of drunken… Read More Like forever meets the mist.
Written for the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. New York Rat. Little Willie was afraid of mice; He laid in bed nearly suffice, His head on the pillow felt oddly flat, As it was actually an obese New York rat. The Car. Little Willie rode his bike, And as he rode, he spiked Over a rock,… Read More Little Willie Poems.
Originally posted on Poems & Equality:
Word count: 145 Warning: A lot of sadness Silence. Silence is golden, Silence is precious, Silence keeps me safe. My mind is a void, An overflowing, overthinking Boisterous void which comforts me, Consoles me, builds me up and Breaks me down, exploits my fears, Beats me within an inch…