Fireflies flit Around the beckoning flames Like paper lanterns, Shimmery and gold, Floating towards the sun. You hum a labored tune Deep in your weary chest. The air is crisp, Your fingers numb. Your voice fails. Your head falls While the scorched logs Hiss, and the smoke Rises ever higher.
The lake sits quiet. Not a ripple stirs The shore. Night is a threadbare Shroud, hung loose Over the cool waters. Stars dance, And the silver moon bares A crescent smile. Scents Of mint and clove Drift on the gentlest Breeze. A single Flower blooms, Its velvet petals dark As dusk. The crickets Trill. The … More A Summer Night
I call myself a collector of sorrows. As a teen, I felt alone and ignored. My classmates bullied me, and my parents spent most of their time at work. They didn’t have the time or care to hear how Brett pushed me on the playground or how Tommy joked about my big nose. After a … More The Collector of Sorrows
I dreamt Of an ancient tree Stripped bare To its silver branches. Harlequin leaves Lay in clumps At its twisted roots, Whose frail tendrils Reached ever outwards. I dreamt Of an iron sun In a sky of cold steel. Ashen clouds marched In boundless, black regiments. From far off I heard the crack of thunder, … More I Dreamt of Home
As the day dies And dusk rears Its violet face, A sour song thrums Through my head. Pale stars tremble While one verse carries To the next. Phantoms Of my sunlit troubles Dance across my eyes. The chorus builds And darkness gathers Under the swollen moon. I twist and turn While midnight’s blanket Rests heavy … More A Midnight Melody
Instead of posting one of my poems, I wanted to share with you a poem from my friend David Cromwell-Aigbokhan over at Thoughts of Cromwell. He writes a lot of amazing stuff and you should totally check out his blog. But today I will share with you his poem Failing State. The poem is about … More Failing State – Thoughts of Cromwell
From across the clamor Of a late and laughing bar, I spied your lips, Ripe and red Like two tart cherries. A ruby glow Lit my skin While my tongue twisted With hot desire. Yet I sat, stared, and said Nothing. Your gaze Drifted over half-drunk faces Not so longing or lustful As my own. Your … More Ruby Lips
I have dawdled Too long in gated Rose gardens. The air Is fresh, the breeze As sweet as morning dew. Flowers blush Red. Their leaves lap Up the smiling sun. But winter winds blow Round and round The iron gates. Ivy tendrils tremble While frosty fingers Suck their life Dry. Grass blades bend To the … More The Gated Garden
A while ago I posted a link to a Creepypasta story I wrote. Here it is again if you never read it. If you like H.P. Lovecraft, this is for you. I will tell this story only once. Pass it around. Alter it if you like. But once I am done with the story. I … More Makhar the Small
Wings clap. Your feathers fall In twisted courses Like downy, gold dancers In the gusty, blue void. Sweet spring air washes Over my lips, stained By your honeyed scent; An echo, a memory, An echo of where you Once roost. You flutter off While my squinted eyes Follow you Past the creeping Shadows, your face … More Angel’s Wings
He Who Wanders 