My Love pushes out my pains
Looking into Her eyes is soft falling…
Is my…rest forever, and warm rains
Temper me…and the sun sets and rises in her heart
The clouds in her hearts sky are sensual kiss plumes
They do not dissipate in my wake
Smelling her animates me—like that which causes wind
Where…does it…come from…?
Her flowering is full, and blooming…with candy like delight
Crystalline bliss sparks up warm light in moons
This glow is ever lucent—it covers earths…
It shone, so lovely…I fall effortlessly asleep under trees….
It is thick and manifest...like peanut butter…
Off of spoons
I sometimes wonder if people really like coffee? It's really bitter. Expresso for instance, a tablespoon mixed in a chocolate dessert highlights it's flavor. A delicate pairing. Coffee is just a feel good thing of manipulated taste, a warm cup on a cold sleepy dreary morning is the warmth and caffeine high you need. And the farce that it is you crash shortly after. I just didn't love my coffee this morning.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
David Hightower’s lyrically expansive meditation on the whims of fate and the unpredictability of the human condition fill the pages of THE HANGING MAN DREAMS with thrilling music and mesmerizing imagery. Hightower’s richly infused voice echoes the e
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.
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