You Are My Poetry 


Funny how little words stand out like the rising sun.  Calling birds to sing in the mornings grace.  The cool air from the nights slumbering face awakes.  As the trees sway, the thought of you comes my way. So, so far away, I can’t see but I can feel your hearts beating thunder.  Your soul as it flutters with a good, my hope for earth is renewed.  All it takes is one, to start the chain, effect that can change, one love, into many.  When the darkness comes, I hide, like so many of us.  Scared to take that step, which leads the walk that comes from talk.  Street lights and headlights, illuminating the way, where evil lives to breathe and play.  My mind is filthy, it stalks your lines.   It licks the very thought that comes to be from your poetry.   Your flowing words ignite a fire deep inside.   Erection, the effect, from the cause of reading your poetic affection.  

AntönyRös

Poesia è

  
Poesia è
dipingere con le parole un paesaggio
fotografare con le idee il mondo
abbozzare con i versi i sentimenti
registrare con la penna i tuoi tormenti.
Poesia è penetrare nel cuore della gente.

Maria Letizia Sasso, Poetiche Visioni

~ loosely translated….

Poetry is
painting a landscape with words
a photograph of ideas sketched in verses
sentiments recorded and penned with ones torment
Poetry penetrates the heart of people

Deaths Wake

As so many have before me
I choose this deck of cards once more
and again am dealt a dead mans hand…that buries my soul forever more

As darkness fell, to life came the eerie site of foggy graves
Lined by a forgotten chapel, a soulless decay of loosened stone and shattered glass
Once stained by angels glory, now they lay as shards between weeds that hug chiseled rock

Headstones marked UNKNOWN and lost to deaths hold
As darkness fell, to life came the ghosts of yesteryear
They roam the fields wailing songs beneath a full moons stare
Tormented spirits wait for more living flesh to happen by
They stand like gargoyles erect with pride, showing off exaggerated smiles
Taunting the images of history past with one of a paranormal blast
Death staggers, gruesome and vile with outstretched arms, zombie charms
Limping stumps of toe-less feet dragging dirt and mud to a scraping beat
Parts of bodies dangle from threads of tattered clothing
Soaked in dry with blood that once thrived
Death lives among the living, as more life dies in deaths wake
Ax

The above poem (slightly edited) was written Feb 24 2015 when I briefly played with a group of awesome people.  We shared a joint called Kindred Words of Ours.   Please go and visit the other authors, all beautiful souls.  Worth the look (link below) to find something or someone new to read.    Sending all smiles 🙏❤️

Kindred Words of Ours