Best At Most Poems

It was glorious ...

A glorious, glowing morn ...
crimson crept up the sky, as if air-brushed ...
little round globs of fair-weather clouds tiptoed on the reach,
(so as to not wake the moon, laying down its head in the west),
close as cork where heaven met sea ...

But...

Continue reading...

She was at her window listening to the rain
Mind just wandering, immersed in pain
She was wondering if it was true that angels cry
Each time they see a child die

They took some tests but it was too late
It was in an area they couldn't operate
She smiled...

Continue reading...

The snow so deep… That it was over our heads… Was a melting by the hour!
Give it a day, or two at most… and with this heat… it would all be gone, forever!
But in the meantime, we were sadly stuck, in mud, deep, within our...

Continue reading...

Good Morning
My old friend
Nice waking up to see you again
Still doing ok?
Cause I am doing fine
Except for these thoughts,dreams and pains of mine

Do not worry over me
I will make it through
Just if you please could stop showing up out of the blue
Scaring me half to...

Continue reading...

Countless poems I've tired to write
But unfinished they still remain
Either i can't find the words to say
Or put in place the right refrain

My pen is begging me to flow
String words along into prose
But writings not an easy task
Of this I surely know

Some nights the words...

Continue reading...

On earth, how to cleanse our soul
To make the cloth of reputation white
At most we can only achieve this goal
When filled the neighbors mind with lies

What we are, at most hidden
Will never let them see
We tricked our neighbor to believe in
On what we seem to...

Continue reading...

My Granddaddy said
A whole lot to me
To prepare for the things
A young mind couldn't see

He peaked around corners
And underneath beds
Here are some things about life
My Granddaddy said

Life if you ain't careful 
Can grab you by the throat
It's a dress that is red
It's a glass bottom...

Continue reading...

I have a dream 
A fantasy
A way to cope 
With reality

You're not really leaving
It's only for awhile
A week or two at most
And you'll be back with a smile

You would never leave me
You know I couldn't go on
You know what you mean to me
And your feelings...

Continue reading...

An Angel, came in human form.
Arrived at my house about noon.
I knew he had a spirit, for he was 
past any norm.
And my keen, mystical soul, was 
right with him in tune.

We chatted for just a bit...
The uniqueness of his spirit showed.
I did not want him...

Continue reading...

Morning time...waking with sweets in my mouth
cinnamon carameltmarshmellowed out
breakfast cereal Sugar Dynamite
secret prize inside,bestows x-ray sight

Sugar shock,tooth rot,'60s psycotropic lollipops
an infinite selection @ Treat's Sweetshop
its addictive candy flavors
improves moods and bad behavior
beware of its dangers
sugar rush overdose and hypereality at most

Peanutbrittle,jawbreakers,misfortune cookie riddles
limesours with saccarine...

Continue reading...

This poem is about how I feel the world has betrayed at most every turn.

I received my awakening,
About the age of three,
Too young for understanding,
Of why it was me.
A house full of roaches,
A room shared by four,
A floor thick with ashes,
A splintered front door.

At the...

Continue reading...

(continued previous part 1)

The duke then: “Tell now: of others indeed
Some Latin among sinners do you know 
Behind pitch?”. And he “I  had to secede,

It’s not much, from one who near had to stow.
I wish I were with him so covered still,
Since fear no...

Continue reading...

That color vileness painted on my face
When coming back my duke to me I saw 
His new squeezing inside much more took place.

He heedful stopped as man hearing to draw;
Because his eye could not reach much far more
Through the black air and too for the...

Continue reading...

I look about this merry gloom
Thoughtless, fat and slim.
Remembering but half a tune
I'd lost my will to win.

'Give up thy Eric Idle, son.'
I heard a whisper mutter.
And sitting up inside my head
Knew this was not a stutter.

'Are you the reepher with a grin?'
I asked, which...

Continue reading...

It is like a drunk
or addict reaching that 'so called' stopping off point. That point
where one can't imagine life with or without the fix. Writing is like that.
Obsessive, progressive, addictive. A fix. Scribes need it to 'feed the rat.'

Recently I have felt
overwhelmed reading all of...

Continue reading...