Best Deformed Poems

Hourglass

Sand falls
Through the glass
Love falls
Within the past
Memories dance
They never last
Head in my hands
As I stare overhead
At the hourglass


Falling Down Stairs

Stairs broken
Wheels unspoken
I fell
Grasping for air
Are...

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The tale below was carved one night
upon the stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



  ...

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POTD 13 March 2019

Welcome! - We are excited to release our very first Visual Video Poem. 

(I trust you will enjoy the complete production effects...

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Would you still love me ... perchance I was half a man?
     My carnal, physical core torn from me like ragged...

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Three men each grew a precious rose
They all had different thoughts
Of how to raise and nurture them
Of the outcomes that they sought.

The first man shirked...

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Oh, how I cherish that bright sun!  But, she
must turn me often lest I grow deformed
and stifled in my quest for too much light.

And...

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                        ...

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My Grandma smelt of peppermints. 
Her kitchen of boiling bacon, 
and margarine - it was always steamy 
and 'welcomingly' warm. 

The bathroom, off the kitchen,...

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Look at the color of that face,
It should not be in this place,
We do not want that face to stay,
Stop! God loves that face anyway

Look...

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Anger is an alarm to the inner beast,
With clenched fists and teeth,
Slowly drawing hefty breaths,
Biting into words and stamping the floor beneath
He’s deformed and blind,...

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When we are walking…
and we’re stepping on a spiky ground,
Walk lightly without looking down or turning around;
Ahead of us always awaits the finest sand 
where...

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The raging beast of fear in darkness was
Conceived
Its father: Terror  
Its mother: Ignorance, 
With the black milk of hate was it
Breastfed, 
By wrath was...

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My words depart as I try 
To explain these happenings
Mistrust has poke its ugly head
And is dragging my family apart
Husband against wife
Mother against daughter
Brother against...

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''You should try to love yourself more.''
Those words reverberate inside of me
As I rearange my thoughts and assort them
But spend much time
Discarding the pile
That doesn't...

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Day old coffee
in its maker
a cold witness
sometimes
to broken dreams
and war stories
and proclamations
of
getting well
of
new beginnings
of
hearty hope.

Solemn stories and
cloudy memories
and Joe
laughter’s echo
at some obscure
joke but
the window
knows
how schemes...

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