Best Cindered Poems

“Fire burning in a hill
The lines are rocky rough
Red angels wait to pick remains
The cindered shoulder
Of confused men” 
(Peter Murphy)
 





"On the Cindered Shoulders of...

Read more of this work...

Torturous curves bending vision,
twisting to hide beyond today
what the prism of the future
holds captive down the whispered way.
Lost to us Love's fledgling glory,
gazing too long...

Read more of this work...

It consumes
                       ...

Read more of this work...

Do you see the frame or the cage?
Step beyond and into this: a rare and colourful bliss,
island of calm in an ocean of rage...
Yesterday, the...

Read more of this work...

The world seems to be quiet and out of its mind
Not to mention the words that aren’t kind
Messages that won’t complete the good thought
Bringing cold...

Read more of this work...

Ride, ride, ride thou figure from the East
In thy curse hath many a mother wept
On thy brow the furrows of distant steppes
Yield unto a steely...

Read more of this work...

Fstop. (SNAP!)

our moment.

our pier.
in a split second, 
a single-slipped ray
of animation 
senses and egresses
ambient light  
into the 
cauterized bloodstream 
of two enamored
lovers.

Fstop. (SNAP!)

our reflection.

my...

Read more of this work...

I used to say I love you, many years ago –
My passion-cries were wings of flight!
Like burning arrows pierced upon a snowy night,
I loosed my...

Read more of this work...

He said, “Yes, I flew a fighter plane over the hills, and the people 
were running, they were just people, they were villagers, not soldiers,...

Read more of this work...

Spaces like Life

Your death is no spectacle. It will unfold itself ceremoniously
like a soft-sweater worn and discarded because of a snag
I walk in a ghetto...

Read more of this work...

Through the hills within the woods of a mountain's slithering slopes,
A road winds its way, on which rides a car driven by a misanthrope. 

Plucking...

Read more of this work...

The Final Strokes

The many hued sparklers were dappling the almost cindered sky
Turning the sunset from gilded gold to ochery orange.
Michael Angelo's brushes were yet busy...

Read more of this work...

We set foot on dry grass at the cockcrow 
 of a nascent union. 
Cheek to cheek as Cupid towers 
over the rose inside my...

Read more of this work...

REMEMBER.


Remember
Poetry is the blood of your visions
It rips you apart against
The torrid consolidations of mundane
Strengths elongated in the retinues
Sparked for uncertain verses in trials.

It wants...

Read more of this work...

Remember
Poetry is the blood of your visions
It rips you apart against
The torrid consolidations of mundane
Strengths elongated in the retinues
Sparked for uncertain verses in trials.

It wants...

Read more of this work...