Best Coldness Poems

"Black Ice"

Sorrow flows from the first sunrise 
Eyes deeper than winter and rainfall
A painful combination never felt before 
At core death awaits
   -...

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When all is but 
dark and dreary,
and coldness wraps the 
silhouette of 
my wooden surface,
I listen to the 
wafer thin whispers
echoing in whimsy tones-
when the...

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I lay down
A lazy Sunday afternoon
The first winds from the north
Blowing snow like a blanket upon our souls

I fall asleep, in a haze of dreams
Where...

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**

  I awoke this morning to birds singing.
  The dead silence that's been heard all winter.
  Now the harmonious sounds of life,...

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This poem was a forest fire; it burned me up as I read it
I was supposedly the writer. 
But was I?

Voices inside me are laughing,...

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Leaves of the Dead

Les feuilles mortes 



They fall like dead soldiers
Dreams knifed in the dead of night
It is as yesterday
Once more
Where love was kissing my...

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Legs that can’t fly
Heart that can’t love
Lips dry
Kisses under go a rye

I am blind
Only seeing within the past lens
Only holding on to memories
That wont last
Your...

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With Eternal Sent Bliss Two Hearts Reborn - a collaboration with Susan Ashley


Under the midnight moon, romance waited
its true heart and beauty, with love baited
for...

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"Aurora Spills"


Aurora spills like a waterfall
light from the eyes 
saltwater tears
crocodilian
scaled in the weight of worth
a drop in the ocean of fate
breaks the seaweed fields...

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Freezing in the midst of hostile ice monsoon
triggering aching woes beneath blood and bones,
I search for a quilt woven in sanguine rune
silken feathers of clementine...

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Fill my  cup 
                    ...

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Under the midnight moon, romance waited
its true heart and beauty, with love baited
for dawning gleam across powdered snow
and she her handsome soldier to soon show
for...

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I want to leave
The next world holds more hope
As this life seems lost in circles
Both worlds filled with virgins
Untouched

I want to leave
And escape the daily...

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Graffiti frames a tunneled tomb, beneath the city's core
where writings stretch upon the wall in dialects profaned
A hallmark and a tell-tale sign, but somehow, no...

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In my grandpa’s field I stand midst rows of grain
 whose gray-green blades stir softly in the moaning wind.
A night chill permeates my skin.
I look...

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