Poetry is ordinary language raised to the Nth power. Poetry is boned with ideas, nerved and blooded with emotions, all held together by the delicate, tough skin of words.

Paul Engle

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Hollow Halls

spotlight beam

She drags her tired heels across the tainted floor Her poise held taut though her back is sore She holds on her face a cold marble stare A hard life engraved upon cheeks once so fair Her movements; once grace exemplified Her aching limbs; with guile, defied Her last performance on this dark empty stage

Dweller

tea pot and cigarettes

The widest face I’ve ever seen and by his ears , thick whiskers, Always drinks sweet Lipton’s tea in a glass with lemon Enjoys his cigarettes and smiles pouring over daily papers Ringtone set to Mahler’s 5th in his eyes small progress is: Goosesteps, new convertibles stooping tramps, the summer dresses, He sees the crowd’s

O’ Woman

woman in a suitcase

It Breaks my heart Rips my soul apart When every morning the newspaper reads And various news feeds, talk about Girls and women, young and old being savagely raped and killed or sold It breaks my heart Rips my soul apart Female Infanticide is rampant A girl is not safe even in her mothers womb

A Little Hope

Person waiting

Colossal memories engulf me, I plunge down deep, Precious bring back my smile, Others do bring back grief. The quantum I did endure, My trampled heart would always pry. Sure nothing stays eternally, No fact hidden in cry! I leap forward to touch, The future, I fathom such. Past then claws me back, Present, never

Smile Forever

two girls smiling

Every morning my eyes open To the charisma of your beauty As if the-all-night-gaze wasn’t gratifying enough Please mind not if my fingers wander If my hands wrap around you Or If my lips kiss your feet in admiration They are too, crazy about you Watching you smile when you open your eyes Has been

A Stray Notion

girl with a mask.

Apathetic forever responses just try being bit concerned Readjust to a sense of giving for volumes to be returned Get rid of limiting blinkers to view all what surrounds Delights ripened for picking where bliss always abounds In vain quest of inexplicable old bridges which get burnt Prove means to an inapt end for lessons

Dawn Eyes

direction compass

By the breath of god The dark curtain is washed One hearty sigh, cooled To a soft egg blue sky Silence in an orange glow Futile street lights On the sidewalk Not a soul Broken watch dials Whispered me to wake My circadian clock Ticking a-tock Eyes far too open Brain far too wired Searching