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Best Poems Written by Michael Kegarice

Below are the all-time best Michael Kegarice poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

Life of a Rope

the last of your jokes ,a glimmer of hope
a knot with no rope
alone for now or forever it would seem
another dream of someone for whi I've never seen
closer the rope further the dream

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

Waiting

No time passed today,
the hours like trees on a windy day,
back and forth they'd sway
you prefer that, sadly to delay my way

the first time your eyes forgot mine
i knew then, i ceased to be friends with time
now i trickle in to the stream
the rapids and falls disperse my dreams

the hollows of old trees, hide me well
while i patiently wait to wish this world farewell
though not a second sooner than god or nature would intend
however, let it come to me before emptiness is my only friend.

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

Now

though less of me i take 
into each new days break
the more i leave to be remembered

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Chance

Love is a chance of a rose, in absence of thorn
this destiny, blind to fate yet still holds it's hand
it becomes me, though it evades me
the serenity of it's possible future knows,
knows that any occurrence is directly attributed
to the bond that binds me to the path of righteousness
because virtue is the only plane on which love may stand
for this pedestal which we named love 
is the only way to truly see ourselves`

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

The Game

behind me in shades of grey
where eight balls in corner pockets lay 
subtle reminders when i close my eyes
of all that was before good bye

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Crows

I suppose the crows that rest on the fence, of past tense
Gather their meals from the lives they steal,
I happen to know that one of those still circling crows,
is owed my soul

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

Little Things

to begin at the end, on the other side of pretend
we toast all that once was but could never be again
while in the shadows of our merry feast,
lurks all that mattered the least

Details | Michael Kegarice Poem

The End of Beginnings

On this which became the same,
a mortal wound if death is heart shaped gloom
meant to bleed from prick on melancholy thorn
meant to tear down cheek from scorn
except no blood or salted flow
no recluse heart or circling crow
just the hollow