Best Scrawling Poems

Through shadowed trails, beneath the moon’s cold stare, 
     Its Amber gaze: a burden hard to bear.
This feathered prize found peace...

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I stand at the front of the exam hall, which is in total silence.
Grey desks stretch out in neat rows   - 
they remind...

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Writing a poem is like giving birth to a baby.
With the copulation of fancy and thought,
Comes the moment of conception!
 
It swims into you as...

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Beneath the illumination of the elliptical moon,
Within the cove of diamond bay, waves gently sway
Back and forth, under the oceans clarity of the big blue,
As...

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It's used as an afterthought, fattening festive 
arrangements for Mother's Day, Easter, 
someone's birthday.  An underrated vine,
enhancing center-stage flowers whose star-power 
doesn't wear well. It's...

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Murmuration of starlings high. I’m high!
Low stars twinkling with wings. The trumpet’s call!
As winds of war, incline, in warm wind sigh,
the flock, a shock, sans...

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DISAPPEAR
Tremors are the worst,
the full-body shakes
its like my skin is too tight,
my body doesn’t fit,
my life doesn’t fit
the anxiety no one understands
its invisible,
I’m invisible.
“Snap out...

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A diaphanous mist hangs over me
Blurring my thoughts and fancy
Or is it that my Muses have gone into lazy slumber?

Whatever thoughts I have, they come...

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Amidst the amazing aroma of the angelic sticks
Cheering along the chants of charismatic priests
Promising on the petals of pearly purity 
You said, "I LOVE YOU"...

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** A Poetry Avalanche **

Goodness! Lord!
I’m on a roll this morning!
The poetry keeps coming —
  nearly torturing!
My keypad arm and fingers are
  alrady...

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I'm just a kid, and life is a nightmare
I'm forced to be mature beyond my age
Using my writing as my therapy
Scrawling my thoughts across the...

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In the workshop of my waking hours,
I am the maker of my own day,
Crafting moments with a DIY attitude,
Twisting fate's threads with hands unbound.

At 6...

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You always tell me how much you love my poetry
but is that the only reason you feel drawn to me?
I write Sonnets filled with love...

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 Part 3

9th Delerium: Emptyness
Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies...

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Underneath the calm exterior
quietly weeps a frightened child.
But beyond the reckoning here
lies agelessness and mystery .
Past the well-traveled soul searcher
rises a distinctly brave woman.
All these...

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