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;
Tag: Inspiration
Surrender.
Darkness in the world. The voice in sweet cities, Sleeping in dim snow.
“Inspire me Coffee, Please?” by Don Matthews.
I’m sitting in my cafe Wanting some inspire Staring at me coffee Waiting brain to fire
Modernities.
isolate the modernities
carnations touch the wind, mocking them,
like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight
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.
Effusion de sang dans les océans.
desire sails the salt winds
in the dark sleep of eternity
within the bloodshed of the sea
Into the cold.
There’s glory into the sun
winding the red
into the willows
lost into the mind
of cool light
Hidden.
Leave behind our minds,
the dispensation of a white trance
in the universe
White Mist (Haiku).
A ghost of April showers
Ice.
And met the ribbing ice.
Dreams we’ve never had.
Conquering in the exile of a gradual wind,
The rhythmic blood
Beating on your cold skin;
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
Is This Love?
I wanted to smack you in the head with my math book,
But that smile made me take another look.
Maybe I’d hit your friend.
Winter roads.
the air collapses
Into grazed
Reformed minds
Darker than apparition
Words alone.
Pseudopsychosis. 