Poems from kristenbennett
The whispers and mumbles, somewhat quite faint,
Are to the old mind, I’m afraid, much too quaint.
Oh, the bright light, it comes to...
A poet, so determined, to write his first line,
He wanted to make it his own; he would call it “Mine.”
His intentions were incomplex;
The...
In unorthodox verses with a poetic tongue,
And my vibrant fingers crossed, I’ll trigger the gun –
A formation of words, so to speak I...
Withering walls with chipped paint,
Alone here I sit and wait.
Abandonment flooding like sealed doom,
As if enclosed inside a tomb,...
With your touch I just might shatter—
Into a million pieces I can’t put back together.
My porcelain skin shivers at the mere thought—
How...