Dramatic Poems - Poems about Dramatic

Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die—quote by Carrie Fisher You must pick one or the other time has passed Warning signs have stopped tipped the scales caution is not priority in here fairy tales Why come to this, and all for what? All or nothing, the game is on Extraction...

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‘Hold on’ ‘To what?’ ‘Your horses’ ‘What horses?’ ‘Don’t get technical’ ...

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I. The Hour of Approach The poem I was writing refused to end— it kept writing me. Blood didn't ink these lines— the ink bled me. Each stanza a hidden-hematoma across the white of nothingness. Somewhere, midnight faltered, and I was no longer alone. II. Visitation: Sylvia Plath Sivvy came barefoot, bees orbiting...

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These scars on my wrists that you just don’t see This noose around my neck means nothing to me It’s just the way my life is entrapped by your charm Your centerpiece of loveliness, you see no harm No fears, no care,s don’t worry about me My overrated façade is all you’ll see. Live your life- Live mine too Damn! I hate...

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Medals on frames stood upright and straight, Like guns marching on bloody road to Death March At eighteen, he bore the pellets of war’s cause Fingers wounded by splinters from a grenade Spawned by raw courage for freedom’s glory He counted black hours guarding his troops; Piloting aircraft and landing on muddy swamp Worse was the order to kick his dead...

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i wonder if this feeling will pass. if the skin rotting beneath my eyes will become a permanent color of blue, if the bruises on my knees will fade to nothing more then flesh. they say this feeling goes away as you age- im not so sure about that. i feel the agonizing sensation of pain rotting...

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Why won’t poets write about us? Is rhyming with orange that troubling? Don’t we, like other fruits need thus: To be showered with praises all bubbling? We have stunning looks and great taste But where are the poems and sonnets? We are saddened that no one makes haste To promote us on shirts or bonnets. We hate to complain about this, But it’s awful...

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Somehow among the hidden leaves of time when quietude swerves on a lane, there is a throb of evening's breath panting inside those marble eyes that if I gaze long enough into darkness your iced look will blink, to open windows that are locked by hinges creating angst enmeshed. The distant screams paint your irises jutting out from a frame of hard lids buried deeply...

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daddy where art thou will you come back again your face stricken with worry your body always in pain i am here but I’m lost my worry taken its toll but i will dig deep my son to the depths of my sol daddy where art thou will we wrestle once more will you tickle my tummy until i fall on the floor our laughter will return and...

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“The octopus’ tender tentacles tinkled like pomegranate bells ---" Cut, Cut Cut! What the 'H' are you talking about? ‘Tender tentacles of an octopus tinkling.’ Have you gone mad, Max? ...

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Who, is beneath the breath it lives A soul, being of what aspects we walk In us all, smash a bug; kill a wasp Just how much does it take pull a trigger Insane anger from where in it come Life or death we do what can survive Threat to our lives, we kill all...

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There is a wish, At least, At last. When none are left. And none, Were ever right. Though thought, And worry Hurried them; When There was, Everything against. Now we wish for more And more Of less and Less....

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I AM POETRY ‘In the Beginning was the Word’ light penetrated dark sound big-banged birthed three in One creating ~ P o e t r y ~ I am this poised superlative unchanging yet exotically emitting all that changes I am Poetry fruit of my desires dropping when fully ripened as words speaking to people faraway nourishing or subtracting What matters...

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. if i only wanted yourn ...

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. "I'm not pretty" yes you are "The flowers are pretty" and your feets need thuh bath daisy {roll'n hug'n kiss'n} "Now your back 'needs ...

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