Happy Saturday, everybody. No poem today but I posted a bunch of new pictures to my gallery if anybody would like to take a look. If you’d like to support my continued work, don’t forget that donation links and forms are at the bottom of my About Me page. Thank you all for all the support you’ve shown my work and continue to show for my website. It means so much to me :).
Tag Archives: poetry
Waning And Waxing
I often look up at the moon when I chance upon it in the night. Nothing to me is so beautiful as that bright orb hanging there in the sky, alight atop the clouds. Perhaps one day I’d like to go up there and see what it’s like for myself. Until then, I offer a prayer to the goddess Luna and her many blessings. Please enjoy.
Luna
As the clouds slowly waft
over a brightly waxing moon,
I stand here
under the light of an unopened door.
My two shadows do battle,
but not I
do they rattle.
I find myself within a hallway,
one of my own design.
I find myself within a hallway,
where an architect decided to resign.
The door to the outside,
much like the door to further in,
takes me someplace
that I might like to go.
I think of that ancient, pockmarked surface of Luna,
her many hills and ridges
devoid of life and love
but perfect in their stillness
and her majesty.
Forever does she battle
in contest with the sun
and the stars.
Eternal guardian of the night
and the tides.
Her temperament predicts the rise and fall of civilizations,
so easily does she command the dark, dark waters of Earth, our Terra.
I offer this prayer to Luna,
that one most graceful body
of a goddess most revered.
As the tides wash over you,
so too does change.
Flown The Coop
Do you ever feel like maybe you need to slow down? To stop and feel the sunlight and remember the way it feels to be a person? Take a look outside and remember the way the rain feels. Go outside and feel yourself in the puddles and leaves. Remember.
Rainy Day
It’s been a while since I’ve seen the rain.
Not so much looked at it,
but a long time since I really saw the way it hits the grass
and the way it always wets my shoes last.
I haven’t sat in the rain,
watching as it falls
and thinking of all the other times.
So many other times.
I haven’t walked in time with waves of water
crashing up against the buildings
and the concrete.
I haven’t been protected by a tree,
o’ great men that stand upon the earth,
feeling warmth amidst the mist around me.
I’ll sit here staring out the window
with nothing to do
and finding that when morning comes,
I find myself
in every drop of dew.
Love One, Love Lost
Morning, friends! Have a poem today that should hopefully evoke powerful feelings and forgotten memories. It does that for me, rereading it the once or twice that I have since its writing. This one means a lot. Please enjoy.
This Was A Home Once
This was a home once,
where haggard hands caressed tired thighs
and heavy lids covered tired eyes.
I still remember the feeling of the last time
when i held you into the morning.
Like we always do,
we forgot the time again.
I still remember kissing there,
where our lips touched so sweetly
as if to make the world melt away
like butter on the softest, warmest piece of bread.
I remember the bites
and the “I love you”s,
the ones you’ll never remember.
Those memories branded upon my gray matter,
their brilliant, beautiful marks
searing into my flesh.
I remember little dogs and fireflies
passing by the whites of our eyes
like the perfect porcelain of your skin.
I am but a man of stone and dirt,
trite in the face of such a sight,
your beauty and your grace
and those little blue eyes at the top of your face.
A woman of fire and gemstone,
alabaster and ivory;
how could I hope to fill your heart of gold
when I am but granite in the cold?
Wake Up! It’s Feeding Time!
Morning, everybody! Getting back into the groove after still feeling a little out of it. The poem today is one I think you’ll enjoy: a rhyming scheme, dark undertones, hopelessness, etc. I wrote it last night for no particular reason. Please enjoy.
Cavern
Under the soil
where men have toiled
something… roils,
sheathed in oil.
The black beast from the depths
comes to wake you from undeath,
and find the man who once swore
never a harm to a loved one’s door.
Failed did he
and suffer must we
for trespasses done
and battles not won.
His love once known across the sea
and carried upon the backs of bees,
now crippled and withered,
cut to pieces
by quite the scissor.
These sands now hear only buzzards.
Salted earth, like briny waves,
binds a man to dank, dark caves.
His mind in irons
and heart a siren’s,
he longs to see the sky again.
Poems by Sam 