Journeys
Learn more about other poetry terms
What story will be written?
And will I live to tell
The tale?
Will the characters I've crafted
Develop and age in wisdom?
How long will each chapter be,
Her eyes were a deep-set amber
Her face was crusted with dust
The end of the world had started
and all she could do was watch.
Nuclear warfare never paid off.
Two sides
Waterman,
Dutch liner
on which you made your passage-
Father,
smiling from the gangplank
hand raised, waving at your friend's
camera...
and all this, from my memories
Dear Destiny,
With words unspoken, you decide our fate
From the things we love to the things we hate
Who we fall in love with, and who we can't stand
Our every last wish, our every last demand
I was introduced, through the limerick,
To writing poetry, I knew every trick
But my teachers found
I would rather go in the ground
Than write another limerick
Then they introduced
I just wish I was a word upon a page, safely out of reach, one quickly scanned over and subtle to a degree that with it the story is magnificent, and without it the story is broken.
In.
The air is fresh.
Out.
Eyelids rise, open to the bright challenge
Brightness fades, leaving only a clearing.
The challenge remains,
yet the possibilities are easier to see.
In.
Use to drink all the time,
torn up from sky to ground,
lock up two or three,
times ago,
you don't know,
how it is to slip,
I have once falled under,
take pain pills at christmas,
