POETRY
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R-18+ content warning.
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burn these pages
brevity may be the soul of wit
but destruction is the soul of poetry
observe
in your hands you hold nature’s majesty
reduced
to mere sheets of dead wood
marked
by the transient thoughts of one blind to the moment
hoping to inspire a fraction of the awe that its life once gave
burn these pages
and feel the flames as they touch your soul
deeper
than any collection of words ever could
brevity may be the soul of wit
but destruction is the soul of poetry
observe
in your hands you hold nature’s majesty
reduced
to mere sheets of dead wood
marked
by the transient thoughts of one blind to the moment
hoping to inspire a fraction of the awe that its life once gave
burn these pages
and feel the flames as they touch your soul
deeper
than any collection of words ever could
If this poem has resonated with you, I would love your support.
This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.
You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
my shadow bleeds ink
i’m frozen
reading the words
scratched upon my soul
long before
i knew
how to read
but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake
so many tears
for so few words
it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly
my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again
for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
were so few
the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see
begin again
i’m frozen
reading the words
scratched upon my soul
long before
i knew
how to read
but now that i’m baked
i’ve got a new take
a new way to remake
and rewrite the wake
so many tears
for so few words
it is on me
to see
and send love
inwardly
my shadow bleeds ink
yet i hold the pen
with these words
i begin again
for my story will be long
with chapters anew
and these words
were so few
the body keeps the score
but the pen holds the key
the paper is the door
so love what you see
begin again
If this poem has resonated with you, I would love your support.
This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.
You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
The Cave
Once
When I was a young boy
You yelled at me
Objectively
It wasn’t much
But it was enough
That night
I built a cave
Inside my mind
One that overlooked
A lake
Whose water
Perfectly reflected
The beauty
Of the nature
That surrounded it
The cave was secret
And strong
And safe
The lake was still
And soft
And serene
I quickly learnt
To hide in that cave
And to gaze upon the water of the lake
Loosing myself
In the reflection
Of a false reality
Made real
By fear
You never yelled at me again
In fact
We never really spoke
At least
Not about anything that mattered
As you pulled away from me
I found solace
Sitting in the cave
Whose creation you inspired
I’d look at the lake
Wishing
You’d appear
Wishing you would
Say
‘Son, won’t you come swim with me?’
But you never came
Later
When I left home
You didn’t fight for me
You didn’t speak or even acknowledge
My absence
But you did leave a mark on my mind
That cave
Is now haunted
By the silent screams
Of the words
You left unsaid
And that lake
Still has ripples
From the rocks
We never thew
Together
The beauty of nature is obscured
By your indifference
And
I no longer
Have anywhere safe
To hide
Once
When I was a young boy
You yelled at me
Objectively
It wasn’t much
But it was enough
That night
I built a cave
Inside my mind
One that overlooked
A lake
Whose water
Perfectly reflected
The beauty
Of the nature
That surrounded it
The cave was secret
And strong
And safe
The lake was still
And soft
And serene
I quickly learnt
To hide in that cave
And to gaze upon the water of the lake
Loosing myself
In the reflection
Of a false reality
Made real
By fear
You never yelled at me again
In fact
We never really spoke
At least
Not about anything that mattered
As you pulled away from me
I found solace
Sitting in the cave
Whose creation you inspired
I’d look at the lake
Wishing
You’d appear
Wishing you would
Say
‘Son, won’t you come swim with me?’
But you never came
Later
When I left home
You didn’t fight for me
You didn’t speak or even acknowledge
My absence
But you did leave a mark on my mind
That cave
Is now haunted
By the silent screams
Of the words
You left unsaid
And that lake
Still has ripples
From the rocks
We never thew
Together
The beauty of nature is obscured
By your indifference
And
I no longer
Have anywhere safe
To hide
If this poem has resonated with you, I would love your support.
This poem is inspired by the book, ‘How To Write Evocative Poetry’.
You can read some chapters from the book, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
death
death
is not true
but it seems like
it is
do not mourn
my passing
life isn’t complete
until it ends
This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.