Tag Archives: snow

The Plight of the Firstborn Son

Good afternoon, everyone! I have been so incredibly busy that I have hardly had the time to write though it is with a glad heart that I would present to you a new piece written by, and you may have guessed it, yours truly. While I hope that you enjoy it, I do hope that you don’t relate too strongly to the images it paints in your head. That would break my little old heart. Without further ado…

The Plight of the Firstborn Son

The plight of the firstborn son,

that one,

the only one,

his hazel eyes.

Reflections,

refractions,

green and gold and amber…

Nothing quite like him,

you know?

I look into his eyes,

my eyes,

seeing someone I never recognize;

someone I never fully realize.

His eyes, they change in the light.

If only it were,

that you could tell

what he’s supposed to be.

What is he supposed to be?

All alone

inside his head

through stained glass

I peek and peer.

What is this man?

A boy who sits upon a pew?

A man who lies when you already knew?

No pattern,

I don’t recognize…

There’s nothing all around.

Ready Teddy?

Good afternoon, all. I’ve got a nice little poem for you today. Wrote it a couple weeks ago. I’ve not found things to be improving, only disproving and dealigning. Perhaps you’ll find some meaning in my little works. Without further, please enjoy.

Dead To Rights

Crumbling towers of marble and granite

turn to dust with those who plan it

on the eve of my dying planet.

Set there by the edge of the world,

finding now it’s been unfurled.

There is a canvas coated in blood

that showed the coming of the flood.

No one listened

to those words

that ooze like mud.

This world is dead

with hardly a word left to be said.

Reternal

Good morning, everyone. I have an interesting post-finals week poem for you. I do sincerely hope you enjoy. Without further ado:

Arisen

Ten white horses buck the trend

and at rainbow’s edge find their end.

“I was looking for gold,” he had said,

now all was lost and he was old.

There never was a pot of gold,

there, at the edge of the rainbow.

Only dust and mist

and things you might have missed.

Ten white horses round the bend

and find a place where they can send

a message back to the lands of men.

“Do not follow,” spoke the cadre, in unison,

“The world in here is one most hollow,” contends the ghostly troupe.

“We’ll not be back in time for soup.”

Soot and soil,

there again.

Fire’s out.

The charcoal turns to ash again.

Can never find my flint and steel…

There it was, just by the reel.

Now it’s all to ash and soot,

buried in the soil.

Drink the water,

make sure to boil.

Ten dark horsemen rise from the boneyard.

“It’s time,” they whisper, as if to a lover.

It’s the horsemen’s turn to play a card.

You’ll be lucky

if you are smothered.

Spirit of the Times

Good morning, everyone. There is much I must take care of, much I have to worry about. In the meantime, I’ve a new poem for you all to consider. Without further ado, please enjoy.

Zeitgeist

Ghosts and specters swirl around

in graceful twirls they do abound,

with their cold touch they do surround,

now feeling lost but never found.

In the bin out there in back

on account of such that I did lack.

My head and hands these thoughts did wrack

on account of that thing which I did lack

and something there I’ll not get back.

I see the ghosts across the water…

Nay, upon the water.

My mind then starts to wander

about those things that hearts do ponder.

Philters and phials could not save

that man which breaks and makes insane;

there is some feeling that does not wane

no matter who the ghosts arraign.

Though it seems the tide is low,

the water tends to encroach slow.

Most decide to go

but while I’m still here,

I think I’d like to know.

You’ll Know

There’s something in us, I think. Something that tells us. Something that lets us know. On the inside, it can often be hard to parse through the noise of anxieties and fears to find out what your body is really telling you, but it always knows. Please enjoy, everybody!

When It’s Right

You’ll know when it’s right.

It’ll feel like buttery silk

and electric velvet.

It’ll feel like the covers

on a cold, cold night

filled with snowflakes.

It’ll feel like holy hearts

and hallowed hands

that hold on

just a little too tight.

It’ll feel like walking with the waves

but with no sand

stuck between your toes.

It’ll feel like flying up and through the sky,

like writing songs that never die

and speaking up but never shy.

I think you’ll know

when it’s right.