Impending doom
Looms over the womb
Nothing can exhume
The gloom of the tomb
Life is just a costume
An heirloom
A temporary bloom
Before the darkness consumes
This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.
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Erotica, R-18+
She’s a day dreamer
And a night thinker
A creative breeze
A wisdom drinker
Able to be serious
But prefers to tinker
With art, life, and sex
She likes it kinkier
This poem is from the book, ‘Kink, Volume 2’
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I close my eyes.
Where once there was vividness
There is now a vague blur.
Stories and visions intermingle
A kaleidoscope of confusion.
Words and non-words alike
Are spoken and responded to.
The allure of reality is lost,
Replaced by the bliss of the abyss.
The joy of not knowing
Is ever more tempting.
Closing my eyes to avoid it all,
To get to where release was once felt.
But no more.
The avalanche of memory greets me.
I cannot escape the pain inside.
I long to let it go.
To let it all go.
This poem is from the book, ‘Words On A Page’
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Two leaves float down a river,
Pulled by the current of life.
Sometimes they take the same path,
Sometimes the river splits them up.
Yet even when apart,
They travel together.
Because all paths lead to the source,
Still, each journey may vary.
Where one leaf faces rocks and rapids,
The other leaf faces calm tranquillity.
Where one leaf feels the warmth of the sun,
The other leaf is beaten by rain.
At times, all leaves get stuck,
Blocked by debris or caught on a bank.
Or pulled under the surface and trapped.
At these times the leaves must wait.
Wait for another to knock it free.
Or for the flow to clear the way.
Or for the slow push of time itself,
To gently alter the river’s shape.
Then the leaves will float once more,
This interruption quickly forgotten,
Because the destination is the same,
No matter which path it took.
Watch this poem on YouTube
This poem is from the book ‘Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence’.
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i find myself
standing in a river
hands outstretched
struggling
in a futile attempt
to hold back the flow
fretting
over all the water
slipping through my fingers
and the erosion underfoot
threatening to dislodge
my fragile defiance
then
a bird call
a gust of wind
a glimpse of sunshine
a moment of surrender
i let go
and just float
trusting the river
to take me
wherever
i need to be
Watch this poem on YouTube
This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.
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here’s to the capitalistic desire
to sacrifice our lives
in order to have the
most fancy coffin
just to flex on
our friends
that we didn’t have time for
and to afford a headstone
chiselled with a quote
espousing the value
of hard work
and dedication
to something beyond ourselves
that no one will read
This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
contemplating suicide
is a luxury
i can no longer afford
i am blessed
with life’s baggage
weighed down by love
spurred
by the desire
to prove them wrong
cajoled into action
my inner voice
softly screaming
to be more
than a footnote
of failure
to act
in-spite of doubt
and fear of judgement
to resolve
to do everything
to ensure my legacy
when I die
i will die
having truly lived
This poem is from the book, ‘A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken’.
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
Sitting
In the sun
In an empty field
My head
Too heavy to hold
I numbly
Weep
For the life
I was too afraid
To live
This poem is from the book, ‘Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul’.
Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.
My body was broken,
before I realised it was my own.
I took it for granted,
while it was slowly being taken.
I used it without thought,
I used it without comprehension,
I used it without appreciation.
Now it’s just used.
I got old,
before I realised I was ageing.
I squandered what I had,
while worrying about what I would become.
I wasted my time,
I wasted my energy,
I wasted my opportunity.
Now I’m just wasted.
My life was over,
before I realised I was living it.
I ignored reality,
but reality kept a watch on me.
I spent my time,
I spent my money,
I spent my soul.
Now I’m just spent.
This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.
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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.
