Best Premature Poems

pReMaTuRe AgInG
an older woman and a younger man
are a trix in between
because as his love blooms
he sees himself aging.
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penned on august 31, 2014!...

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Her brush strokes sorrow upon her canvas,
as oils drip with sadness. 
He captures images of silent spirits, 
drifting in blackness.

In her black and white world,...

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Clarity, clarity, surely clarity is the most beautiful thing in the world, A limited, limiting clarity I have not and never did have any motive...

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Some express their pain,
some sacrifice it for others,
only poets turn it into poetry - (my quote)

Only poets can turn words into poems,
so those who are...

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178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered...

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Thy Wondrous Life Was As A Butterfly's Brief Stay,
Poets Tribute Series, third poet,  John Keats 

Poet, where flows tears for thy premature demise
tragic death...

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“I let go. Lost in oblivion. Dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.”
Chuck Palahniuk


Is there such a metaphor as...

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P o e t r y fills my heart 
with lyrical acrolect:
slowly swaying 
my fingers
   to outstanding octaves, 
through 
  ecstatic 
...

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I write of a man named Edgar Allan Poe,
Whose dark, tortured soul could not rest,
His work is something every poet should know,
These stories are among...

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In reality we are all gardeners, 
wandering through the gardens of life

gently placing our seeds
into the mouth of the Earth.
Drifting through seasons,
anticipating the first glimpse...

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MOMMY

OF WHAT ARE WE MADE INSIDE US
Well my dear Ruth
We are made up of protons,
And Neutrons,
And of course Atoms,
And Molecules.
But isn’t this conversation
A little premature
For...

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One day I delivered a poem
one that seemed to be premature
so I swaddled her up
and set her aside
to grow 'til I felt reassured

How she yowled...

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I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists 
of wilderness,
only found in 
woeful woodland. 
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a 
forsaken rainforest. 

Misguided...

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that first peep of the crocus
breaking through frozen earth
longer hours of sunlight
bulbs drawn by brief sensations of warmth
like hearts that had lingered in frozen graves
waiting...

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I was born fifty years ago on April 10th 1964
Looking back through the years I began to explore

My mama said when it was time for...

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