113 of 158

Write now Article Tools

I wait not for breaking dawn,
As night's cool breath wanes,
I justify her sweet remains,
I care not of shadows on the lawn,
All I see is quite mundane,

Now view my desk in silver glow,
The moon above shone unsung tales,
From my notes, 'The heart that fails,
Now poisons itself as arteries grow,
From crimsoned veins to serpants' tails,

Horrid, who would write such; and yet,

Such beauty from devastation of trust,
I can see his hatred rot through lust,
See her eyes, now green and wet,
I feel so pure; I must, I must,

Surely one should see as I feel,
A breath, long drawn, nourishes the mind,
Yet more sickly I feel in kind,
Her eyes, though closed, not green but teal,
Pierce my intent, sense fear; so kind,

I wish her to see, and set her free,
Yet this burden of insatiable thirst,
To drink in scenes morbid, horridly rehearsed,
At price, your time and ability to see,
That all may be right, and you far from cursed,

Rise, hatred, rise and be heard,
Spread now foul cowardice, spread seed,
The torment you've born is malnourished, take heed,
The sun that now lifts stirs the birds,
So many colors, such beauty in breeds,

Such confusion is overwhelming,
The blood is now boiling,
No comfort, no sanction, no loss, nothing,
Save me from the emptiness coming,

Beneath the silver light of the moon,
Far now, still, from the coming of noon,
A hand, quite soothing, did sift through my hair,
I awakened from thoughts to a kind, loving stare,
Of course dear, you know best,
Flooding minds, desire their rest...

Learn more about this author, Todd.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Facing life?
We want to hear your view. Write now!