An existence
Attached to pinprick perforations;
Blunted imprints and scabbed divots
Sealing off memories –
Dark figures roaming stone-walled chambers
Shrouded in the forgotten colors
Of adolescence
Masking itself
In nonchalant shades of grey
Because it’s better this way…
Distanced from the blemishes
Hid beneath long sleeves
And pretty fabrics
Without being fettered
To the ‘why’ they’re there
To touch them
With aloof interest
Without scratching beneath the skin
Of buried trauma
In unintended discovery
Unleashing agonies that bleed
Uglier
Than every macabre hue
It’s better to remember nothing
Except these moments
As cherry blossoms
softly carpet the sunbaked asphalt…
Tag Archives: Poetry
One Night Stand
As love escapes
The twilit tangles
Sweet dreams unfurl
To shatter on dawn’s
Gilded edge
He turns to find himself
Alone—
Tangled sheets
Sillage of liquor
And sated lust
Stirring hazed recollections
Again
With only stale tastes
Of passion
Stuck to the roof of his mouth
And a distant ebb and flow
Of heated promises
That never breached the shore
Of a fleeting infatuation
A Midnight Wish
Mystery murmurs
Low and resonant –
Its strange cadence
Plucks into the stillness
Like a poltergeist;
Presence betrayed
By shuddering walls
And their heaving sighs
As though burdened
By tales they’d eagerly share
If only they could talk
But those stories remain
Teasing whispers
Behind wooden beams
Where she wishes
She could stuff her doubts
For only a moment
Of unbruised peace and quiet
A Quiet Comfort
Like watching breath in motion
The calligrapher inks the beginnings
of a quiet soul
Upon fine parchment;
A soft inhale suspends itself
Following his careful pause
Then pools out – measured and slow
As each brushstroke
contours and connects
to a heart of emotions
that become tangible
Real
A lifeline immortalized
For all the things
Left unsaid;
For the anxious thoughts
Pressed between quivering lips
Offering comfort
To the ones
Trapped within the tangles
of their own mind
Without End
Calendar pages flutter through the wind
Another year twists its limbs
In a dance that is quickly forgotten
As it grows more distant
A glimmering speck
Unseen
At the threshold of time
That continues in its unbroken way—
Solemn and impartial—
While some will its hands
To reset to their desires;
Resolutions gathered
In an abundance of wishes and prayers
Between hands, lips and hearts
Eager to carve boundless paths
Where the life-giving pulse of fate
Flows
Without end.
——
Happy New Year everyone ❤
The Curious You
You seemed a creation
of waves and sand;
The way your skin glittered
in opalescent winks
Under the aureate sun
You spoke the language
of the sea’s deep groanings
That only seagulls could pacify
Seashells hugged your neck
Like the finest pearls
And your moss-green eyes
held a mysterious depth
that rivalled the ocean’s;
Pools I could drown in
without fear of an unknown Leviathan
crushing my body in its descent.
We could not understand each other—
Perhaps you were only a figment
of my sun-soaked imagination
But all I felt
Breathing your salted fragrance
Was peace;
Quiet and free.
I want to give a shoutout to Happy Panda. I think this piece was inspired by your comment on my last post, which was so encouraging. It made me realize even if my writing doesn’t sound “perfect”, as long as I still enjoy doing it, that’s all that matters. Thank you for being awesome and I wish you all the happiness ❤
The Grim Reaper
The crows have gathered
Wreathing across the grey sky
Swollen with grief
Before descending the crooked limbs
Of an old oak;
Bending their heads
In solemn piety
For the grim reaper
Approaching with the shadows;
Unseen to the natural eye
Hooded cloak draping
Grass blades tipped in crimson
Bearing memory
Of the place where she died;
A wraith roaming the shade
Wild daisies kissing at her feet
But without preamble
His scythe tears apart
Her gossamer soul
And she screams through
An imagined agony
Fighting to keep
The familiar burden
Of spilled emotions
Until she realizes
She is finally free…
Tortured Ritual
Prepubescent inklings —
Words still too rubbery
And uncertain
Clumsily pressed together
Like a rushed project
Past its final deadline;
Filled with superfluities
And a noticeable panic
Hedging each line;
Almost every page
Reveals the same
Nervous writing
Baring the frustrations
Of a tired mind
Helplessly fettered
To a tortured ritual
Messages Left Behind
Affections
Written in blood
Or are these afflictions?
It’s becoming hard
To tell the difference;
To understand these emotions
Bathed in scarlet
Wishes kept secret
Inscribed
In the stoic, unbroken lines
Probed by searching fingers
Desperate
To understand
The cryptic messages
Left behind
By a weary heart
Photo credit; Avogado6
Monday Morning Blues
Every Monday seems to be the same
Endless copies of banal monotony
That neither wind nor rain can change
A day breathed in heavy sighs
Dragging itself through the motions
Even the sun
Droops with a haggard indolence
Sagging over the clouds—
Grey with their own burdens
Full of the Monday morning blues
Ushering in another week
As the suited herd
File into their confined cubicles
While the clock watches
Scrutinizing the worth
Of their labor
And relief only comes
In the blur of minutes and seconds
Eclipsed in the commute back home;
Heels and shoes kicked off at the door
The stress and scum of the day
Washed away in hot streams
Down the drain
While the moon offers
An ephemeral slumber;
Precious hours
Before time resets
And the loop begins
All over again
Nomad Writer 