Hello beloved reader[s]! I'm experimenting with blank verse, so I'll put down a couple of the products from my extremely random late-night poetry session.
*
Echo
The sighs of Perhaps resonate through the
corners of my mind. It spreads the sunset
of hope through the long-cancerous despair.
But if this Perhaps should prove a lie,
a traitorous Delilah to my dreams
Perhaps my weeping will wear to ashes
the sight from my eyes and love from my soul.
*
This next poem isn't really finished, but I'll put it up anyway... I could do with some critiques on it, actually.
Untitled
The bleakest canvas before me stretches
in great swathes of salt-blue and foaming white
true silence reigning in secretive wind
that breathes salt secrets of long-dead men
past my cheek and up into the mangroves.
This stone seat by the long-lost coral shore
worn smooth by the unfaithful Lady Tides
was once the great palace of the fisher-kings
before the next brush-stroke swept them away.
*
Echo
The sighs of Perhaps resonate through the
corners of my mind. It spreads the sunset
of hope through the long-cancerous despair.
But if this Perhaps should prove a lie,
a traitorous Delilah to my dreams
Perhaps my weeping will wear to ashes
the sight from my eyes and love from my soul.
*
This next poem isn't really finished, but I'll put it up anyway... I could do with some critiques on it, actually.
Untitled
The bleakest canvas before me stretches
in great swathes of salt-blue and foaming white
true silence reigning in secretive wind
that breathes salt secrets of long-dead men
past my cheek and up into the mangroves.
This stone seat by the long-lost coral shore
worn smooth by the unfaithful Lady Tides
was once the great palace of the fisher-kings
before the next brush-stroke swept them away.