Today, we want to spotlight Visual Poetry. Please enjoy!
A prison of my times .. and a paradise of yours .. but are you still listening to my echoes through your pulsations?
We could share ourselves through these wires .. but can you touch me without f l i n c h i n g?
With tangibility always the question .. answers ridicule my clumsy efforts to c r a w l out of this corner ..
Guilty of facing my back on hope .. it would still smile politely understanding what I really mean.
When we pushed through the blizzard .. we believed in what we couldn't see ..
but I fell out of your shadows and let myself breathe in my selfishness ..
When THEY take control of you .. let them in to give you those last a u t u m n l e a v e s ..
Far away is the distant summer where I held them for you .. in your hands.
Transcend for the intangible ..
and watch this last sunset with me.
It could only start in the ..
or it would d i s a p p e a r into the obscure m i s t
A dull rumble echoed into my veins ..
regurgitating anxiety into my eyes ..
and dislodging my thoughts into chaos.
Pleading into the dusk ..
wouldn't prevent me from hitting the dust ..
re-birthing withdrew its last offer ..
substituting a beautiful d o o m.
Hands reach out in desperation ..
at the last lingering moments of warmth ..
fostered with blisters ..
they remain motionless in their numb d i s c o v e r y.
I l l u s i o n s of sleep no longer walk the edge of reality..
faithful to elude me in vengeance ..
visions thank my silence ..
and relieves me to my blank p a r a l y s i s of fate.
This sunrise morning
whilst walking in the orchard
I thought of you.
Turning a sweet smelling corner
I found you lingering there
slightly out of focus
slightly out of reach
sides of you open, unfurling
while others remain locked tight
pieces of you shrouded in shadows
while others boldly face the light
always beautiful, you are,
one that I call my friend.
While I know it is hard to see
yourself through these eyes, try.
I thought of you.
Styrofoam Papersitting on the patchwork grey-black concrete
a paper cup, styrofoam, tipped and empty
two sets of teeth marks line the
top edge lending it character
as though the cup didn't lend
this street enough character as it were
i wonder if the teeth that left an
. On . Enrollment . Day .I wish my frozen lips could tell you
-I wish you could somehow know-
Of how it breaks my heart
When I have to watch you go.
And I wish you could come back
How I wish you would return
But this weight in my chest
Is beginning to twist and burn.
See, I have this strange feeling
That we will never meet again
-That I'm going to lose you,
But it's not something I can explain.
So I have to watch you go
To watch you march up to death
In your smart, new army outfit
With the cold misting from your breath.
And right before you disappear
You turn and wave back to me,
With a gleaming smile on your face
-As happy as can be.
But I still can't shake the feeling
That you're never coming back,
That you'll always be just as stubborn
Maybe even leading the attack.
Of course, you'll be at the front line
Protecting the others, like you always do,
A determined set to your face;
A warrior I'm sure they'll look up to.
But my dearest, being on the front line
Means being the first to die.
Half these boys are not
Through an artist's eyes
A painter's world is made of
brushstrokes and lines,
with colors that flow
and swirling designs.
A photographer's hope
to get that perfect shot,
they try and try
and try with all they've got.
A poet's life is all
words and rhyme,
finding the right words
for the right time.
A drawer is made of
graphite and pencils,
and tracing with stencils.
A singer's mind
is all pitches and song,
and expecting people
to sing along.
An actor's life
is lived on a stage,
even when working
for minimum wage.
A dancer's dream
written on their face,
as they go through the motions