Best In Question(P) Poems

~The Untold Fatal Attraction Poem~

Mid-morning she sees the sun ahead
Her death flowed in a messaged bottle
Gazing into her brown eyes upon all open sores,
Her conscience...

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From childhood it was a world of two...you and I...
I leaned lightly, leisurely against your heart and you let me in.

We were five I use...

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"HOLDING HIS HAND"

*The Voice*
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?

"God's voice"
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down...

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In the landscape 
of melancholy, 
where arctic 
heartbeats linger, 
I long for withered 
willows to blossom 
like speckled 
diamond petals, 
while your crystalline 
silhouette strolls...

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“Air becomes wind when it’s agitated.” Lucretius

“Thank you for joining me in the studio today,” Mr. Zephyr. 
“Glad to be here, Bob. Thank you for...

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Part I

Where gladiators fought for life,
we meet to fight for love
The constellations in the Roman night sky,
celestial spectators, bathe the Colosseum
in the white blood of...

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We will walk then, you and I

When daylight shuts her weary eye;

Down the streets where beggars sleep

And drug crazed addicts spend their keep.

On streets that...

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It feels like the world
has been struck by a 
plague of pathological lies,
where fictional truth 
seems to sell better,
the allure of
imitation glistens 
even brighter, 
while...

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The farm
     and the porch light hums 
the sound of another 
orange dawn.

Burnt up – crisp
     ...

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You probably don't think much of me
save for the season of spring
when your lawn litters itself
with giant over-buttered popcorn

(birds that think they can sing,
supersonic sneezes?
those...

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I be a common salty once
          no captain's bars, did bear
     ...

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The moon dances 
on lonely nights,
to astral beams of
the clear quartz milky way~
I lay in an olive meadow
designed in fragrant
promises,
hidden between thorns 
and thistles disguised
as...

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THIS IS A FICTIONAL WRITE THAT EXPLORES THE QUESTION OF WHAT LOVE IS. IT DOES SO IN A DRAMATIC WAY, AFTER ALL THAT IS MY...

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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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It's 3 am,
her pillow soaked in regret.
Loss has left her spirit lonesome,
darkness a definition of insanity.

In the silence of the night,
vexatious voices vibrate inside
her somber...

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