Modern Art

March 12, 2015 at 2:06 AM (Poetry)

The swirls and whirls
imbued with the words
that no longer come

Can this assuage my heart;
will the chalk dust, paint
flecks, stray stains on wood

Can all this replace the glorious
art of well-placed ink smudges
smattering my fingers and palms?

The whimpers and whistles take
over for the lyrics and the
poems suddenly run dry.

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October 7, 2013 at 2:01 AM (Poetry)

Praise a long- distance phone call

the crackling muffled mumbles on the other end


Praise the letter I recieved

on the day I felt so alone

my fingers trailed the ink for heat


Praise this ripped up hoodie

that sops up all my tears, praise

its memories and history


Praise the recollections and fantasies

dreams of a future

concurrent the latter


Praise the faith, hope, gospel

the prompt of his ardor and zeal

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My Love

October 1, 2013 at 7:51 PM (Poetry)

My love has hands like the sea.

Rough and callused, the

way shells cut my feet.

The waves knock me over,

turbulent and passionate.

His hands are soft like seaweed

flowing over my body, gently

smoothing through my hair.

Able and determined,

the tide coming in with a crash

sustained and full of life.

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