Popular Life Cycle Poems
#LifeCycle
I am your artist, I am your muse
Weathered
Like the painting
I am
Barrio Urban
South side
Writer’s block
You could cut with a knife
Art is my remains
Mentor, lover, muse
Choices and regrets
Sliced and diced
I never give up
The struggle
A piece of cake
Prefer Key Lime Pie
Work harder
Sleep tomorrow
Like the painting
I am
Barrio Urban
South side
Writer’s block
You could cut with a knife
Art is my remains
Mentor, lover, muse
Choices and regrets
Sliced and diced
I never give up
The struggle
A piece of cake
Prefer Key Lime Pie
Work harder
Sleep tomorrow
#strength
#identity
#myself
#LifeCycle
#art
153 reads
46 Comments
Urgency of the Blizzard
Not even sure if this rhythm between
my thorax and lips counts as breathing
Eyes slub white of the skies
onto heart’hed carpet,
where stitched sinew will weave
infernal limits of our mortal limbs
Bogarted by biography baggage
of all the poetry joints, she walked into here,
began slinging ice and lemon o’er bitter embers
Kindle is not exclusive for reading on trains.
Suburban Phoenix stocks supermarket shelves
with nectar for gravel-voiced sirens, shopped
twin-flamed from a double-barrel shotgun, trigger
...
my thorax and lips counts as breathing
Eyes slub white of the skies
onto heart’hed carpet,
where stitched sinew will weave
infernal limits of our mortal limbs
Bogarted by biography baggage
of all the poetry joints, she walked into here,
began slinging ice and lemon o’er bitter embers
Kindle is not exclusive for reading on trains.
Suburban Phoenix stocks supermarket shelves
with nectar for gravel-voiced sirens, shopped
twin-flamed from a double-barrel shotgun, trigger
...
#romantic
#LifeCycle
111 reads
15 Comments
The Absence of Magic
Crushed under heel, your cigarette smolders in heavy waves of gray, defiant to its last breath. Compare its progress to the formation of debris fields, Saturn's rings, the Kuiper belt. Smaller scale, the same physical principles in play. Force of momentum and attraction, mass and density, light and a path of longitudinal oscillations along the line of propagation. Beauty in the facility of simple movement.
She exhales and laughs bitterly, throws bursts of sound like glass at me that shatters against my face. I wait, let your silence reign, until you will speak again. What isn’t a...
She exhales and laughs bitterly, throws bursts of sound like glass at me that shatters against my face. I wait, let your silence reign, until you will speak again. What isn’t a...
#love
#universe
#memories
#WritingPoetry
#LifeCycle
77 reads
11 Comments
Story Behind
There is a savage story behind my face:
doubts, knives, spigots, knots, bewilderment
and a make-shift gallows —
betrayal as expected from religious double-agents of love
while self-appointed crows posed as wise beings.
A legacy burns in my brother’s house
and my missing sister turned East — still in hiding.
The family diamonds lie in a deep vault,
the combination lock for which is configured
in a distant constellation;
someone promised a master key, later smelted
into a rough cross.
The split-junctions laughed, linked fists ...
doubts, knives, spigots, knots, bewilderment
and a make-shift gallows —
betrayal as expected from religious double-agents of love
while self-appointed crows posed as wise beings.
A legacy burns in my brother’s house
and my missing sister turned East — still in hiding.
The family diamonds lie in a deep vault,
the combination lock for which is configured
in a distant constellation;
someone promised a master key, later smelted
into a rough cross.
The split-junctions laughed, linked fists ...
#LifeStruggles
#spiritual
#LifeCycle #SelfReflection
#LifeCycle #SelfReflection
62 reads
8 Comments
Turn Left at Burnt Coffin and Follow the Silence
Rag-and-bone man sells wilted flowers
for graveside manners
picnic blankets beside tombs
As refugees of misted lands
rambles of shingled memories
breast coasts with words left unspoken
Travelling orbs are flecks of dust,
palm reading and astrology
guessing of sight’s second coming,
even the blind man knows his way home
Always coming back
to kitchen aroma
bodies of paperback spine
mouths wept tales of Romany…..
If you could see me now,
a full embalmment away from
the vodka-corpsed cymru...
for graveside manners
picnic blankets beside tombs
As refugees of misted lands
rambles of shingled memories
breast coasts with words left unspoken
Travelling orbs are flecks of dust,
palm reading and astrology
guessing of sight’s second coming,
even the blind man knows his way home
Always coming back
to kitchen aroma
bodies of paperback spine
mouths wept tales of Romany…..
If you could see me now,
a full embalmment away from
the vodka-corpsed cymru...
#hope
#mother
#LifeCycle #graveyard
#LifeCycle #graveyard
106 reads
15 Comments
Standing with Bowie on the street corner - Question nothing
It's nice out here, in the innocent, morning light.
Engulfed in the brightness of passions.
I picture a fantasy a view as a reality.
I am a blank canvas; waiting to create a world of words.
With every moment the wind teases or whispers in my direction; words flow within, bringing new light to thought and painting pictures.
Thoughts are full and silence hangs caught, and then carried by the wind and the songs in my ears.
Looks of wonder, overflowing, in heartfelt wishes to continue this journey; soaring to heights...
Engulfed in the brightness of passions.
I picture a fantasy a view as a reality.
I am a blank canvas; waiting to create a world of words.
With every moment the wind teases or whispers in my direction; words flow within, bringing new light to thought and painting pictures.
Thoughts are full and silence hangs caught, and then carried by the wind and the songs in my ears.
Looks of wonder, overflowing, in heartfelt wishes to continue this journey; soaring to heights...
#love
#LifeAsAWriter
#LifeCycle
87 reads
9 Comments
Forty Four Words of Vital Statistics
Arithmetic of their resuscitated hearts
Extract roots of serpentine secrecy,
Multiplies her lover’s passion
Ethylene twilight divides flame into bone,
For everything sacred has been written
When water loses her noise
Cortege of caves crumble,
We will say only this -
We survived to love
Extract roots of serpentine secrecy,
Multiplies her lover’s passion
Ethylene twilight divides flame into bone,
For everything sacred has been written
When water loses her noise
Cortege of caves crumble,
We will say only this -
We survived to love
#identity
#LifeCycle
120 reads
11 Comments
Thoughts Framed at Splash Point, 15:00
And though the rain draized
last night’s dream from my eyes,
the vision shared its secrets with the sea
An horizon tanker spilt ink into everything,
in this grey land between two piers
wedded are the hidden fingers of light
Nothing I could say would make the sea weep
for she’s been crying forever, or so it seems,
galleons of whisky would bring you closer to me
in gallery of ‘love oft whispered, is ready to submit’
the dark-lit sand remembered
baptised fragment disciples from cloud scree:
...
last night’s dream from my eyes,
the vision shared its secrets with the sea
An horizon tanker spilt ink into everything,
in this grey land between two piers
wedded are the hidden fingers of light
Nothing I could say would make the sea weep
for she’s been crying forever, or so it seems,
galleons of whisky would bring you closer to me
in gallery of ‘love oft whispered, is ready to submit’
the dark-lit sand remembered
baptised fragment disciples from cloud scree:
...
#LifeCycle
#redemption
95 reads
12 Comments
Rearranging Spaces
In the way dreams enter a sleeping mind
Street’ed sinews string heels of lonely walkers,
I woke in the dark and came to find you
What would be the taste of this room if I were gone?
Distilled Armani permeates wardrobe grave
Gangrene of love amputated on vellum bed
Nicotine waifs, orphan ex(h)altions p(s)alm walls,
A ceiling shower wouldn’t dampen the carpet
Will the strangers who fuck in my haunted spaces
Handrail the walls, finger the oaken door hinges,
Left slightly open to stained absence of passion, lived?
He who...
Street’ed sinews string heels of lonely walkers,
I woke in the dark and came to find you
What would be the taste of this room if I were gone?
Distilled Armani permeates wardrobe grave
Gangrene of love amputated on vellum bed
Nicotine waifs, orphan ex(h)altions p(s)alm walls,
A ceiling shower wouldn’t dampen the carpet
Will the strangers who fuck in my haunted spaces
Handrail the walls, finger the oaken door hinges,
Left slightly open to stained absence of passion, lived?
He who...
#romantic
#LifeCycle
133 reads
11 Comments
All One Summer Breath
In the body of this room
her scent, like poetry,
has no expiry date
The night can be an elderberry darkening
veins collecting lightning from earth’s scatterings,
apricot lozenge scrapes
weary embers from my throat,
guitars of orchard flesh
wait to be plucked in summer rain
Coffee and cigarette rush-hour
breaks sunday’s silent hym(e)ns,
torn notebook pages pulpit my feet
like white maps of the world before creation
Teething my three tongues
to colours of your one voice,
words fuck frost from the...
her scent, like poetry,
has no expiry date
The night can be an elderberry darkening
veins collecting lightning from earth’s scatterings,
apricot lozenge scrapes
weary embers from my throat,
guitars of orchard flesh
wait to be plucked in summer rain
Coffee and cigarette rush-hour
breaks sunday’s silent hym(e)ns,
torn notebook pages pulpit my feet
like white maps of the world before creation
Teething my three tongues
to colours of your one voice,
words fuck frost from the...
#LifeCycle
#redemption
107 reads
10 Comments
In Another Rain
the distance between
nations and constellations
is a semaphore breathe away,
traipsed rivers engrave
star reflections
fallen branches
into her tome
the distance between
rotation and the wheel
is tomorrow’s destination,
lungs of our city walls
exhale ruins for citadel colours,
aurora flights strengthen streets
name the city a different kind of grace
river bleeds beneath our skins
as we dared to open our eyes,
and in this moment
not...
nations and constellations
is a semaphore breathe away,
traipsed rivers engrave
star reflections
fallen branches
into her tome
the distance between
rotation and the wheel
is tomorrow’s destination,
lungs of our city walls
exhale ruins for citadel colours,
aurora flights strengthen streets
name the city a different kind of grace
river bleeds beneath our skins
as we dared to open our eyes,
and in this moment
not...
#LifeCycle
119 reads
11 Comments
Shorts from Kitchen Sink Satellites
Nativity Blues
They found him on the school stage
overlooked by a portrait of Jesus,
Above the chair he had kicked away
Small Things Like This
A piano plays in an empty womb
hear the minor keys fall silent,
Staccato are hospital ward screams
brief is the introduction of strangers
Falling from Drifting Snow
When we came back late from the Waterfall
someone pinned a message to the gate,
Wales has drowned, just keep fucking sailing
Some Call it Irony
Knuckleboned tornflesh night ...
They found him on the school stage
overlooked by a portrait of Jesus,
Above the chair he had kicked away
Small Things Like This
A piano plays in an empty womb
hear the minor keys fall silent,
Staccato are hospital ward screams
brief is the introduction of strangers
Falling from Drifting Snow
When we came back late from the Waterfall
someone pinned a message to the gate,
Wales has drowned, just keep fucking sailing
Some Call it Irony
Knuckleboned tornflesh night ...
#LifeCycle
82 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Popular Life Cycle Poems