Best Fabric Poems

listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.

now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the...

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Within the frame a sepia scene
a dusty porch   a rickety chair   
the fabric of your dusky face creased
with ceaseless sunbaked woes
your...

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My words were rewritten until they became yours
As grammar and syntax perfected your thoughts
Pages lined with highlighters polished me to extinction 

I wanted to resist...

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Shadowed in the silent room, the daylight's nearly gone
Dusk climbs in through window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on...

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In a moment of juvenile jealousy 
he envies his red rival

with its intimate and greedy embrace of her angels’ share
of honey and vanilla spice
as wet...

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Have a lovely day


Pushed now to the limit by a never ending whisper
Lost behind the meaning of a question I can’t hear
Dreaming of a day...

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guilty as charged
i stole it tall
every consonant 
every vowel
every word
every sentence 

plagiarized 

the ocean
in its unique shades of blues and greens
combined and blended to create
its...

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POTD 9th April 2018

Synopsis -
A story of selflessness without jealousy or rancor that is often evident through the ages in all walks of life, even...

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from the sky’s black velvet cloak
points of light emanate 
drawing the wonder of all who see

but are these sequin stars
or tears in the fabric of...

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I'm an ashen dove, 
fading in zephyr 
of wine valleys, 
saturating in fog 
upon enchanting hills, 
draped in 
grape-green silk, 
where fantasies of forest, 
sprout...

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I remember when
Q was part of a Tip
now Q is a one way trip
to crazy town
It’s a place where thoughts flip
and up is down
Where every...

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A fire blazes behind the veil 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This veil I wear
is not made of cloth
for no fabric could withstand
the incendiary passion
I command

It's self-imposed
not forced
no man's hand
would...

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William Bonny AKA Billy The Kid
A Tale Of Billy The Kid
By Robert Gorelick

“Quien esta?”

Bang!  It’s over, 
you’re a legend now, 
Billy.

Born in Hell’s Kitchen...

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Upon autumn's stage where vermillion vistas and cobalt-blue sky meet
Picturesque hues enchant, oscillating in breeze, as scarlet landscapes greet.

Falling leaves trickle down on golden yellow...

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When life parades a fine line 
between alienation and rationality,
internal intruders of the soul shroud spotlights.

In my dreams 
I'm playing charades with the grim reaper.
surrounded...

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