Best Scribbled Poems

My poems are conceived, not within the womb,
which long time now has been devoid of seed.
My poems are born from a need to be heard:
my...

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Tonight my ink is mute
and this quill rests in silence.
I’m searching for the perfumed poem
you’ve placed in my aching soul,
when I found a home 
within...

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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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In uncontrollable destinies,
fate is visible, signposted with faith.
In limitations of the intangible unforeseen,
tribulations from tangible organisms,
leave a heart yearning to release 
the force from kundalini kismet.

What...

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To my life that betrayed the butterflies~
          within my chrysalis mind, 
forgive my flawed dialect, 
I...

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"Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it."~...

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Mind softened, 
watching fusions 
of saffron strips
merge with scarlet hues,
elegantly charming 
             ...

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To count the ways, I dare to comprehend
such finite love defined in written line,
for quantity shall never find an end 
to love that lets infinity...

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When all is but 
dark and dreary,
and coldness wraps the 
silhouette of 
my wooden surface,
I listen to the 
wafer thin whispers
echoing in whimsy tones-
when the...

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If I had those pretentious brains which act faster than this heart

maybe then I would abhore this soul which spreads freely through each verse

maybe then...

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Note:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Percy_Bysshe_Shelley
Percy Bysshe Shelley,  Born 4 August 1792
Horsham, Sussex, England[1]
Died , 8 July 1822 (aged 29)
Gulf of La Spezia, Kingdom of Sardinia (now Italy)
Occupation	Poet, dramatist,...

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I read my obituary
Accolades run afoul to lighten the souls of the living
Trite clichés, forgotten kin, melodic tributes
Boring and meaningless

Upon a granite stone etched for...

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Into my dreary days
Rode hope on scented lines
In this pool of darkest deep
So bleak.. only love could find
A world of suffocating stench
Pulls me closer to...

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Last night when you were in deep sleep
I scribbled a poem on your bare back,
a page so soft--with love bites and moles
I used them to...

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she is everything you have seen in the movies
crayola hair
velvet dress
sugar in her veins
tears glued to her face
she fingerpaints the kitchen walls like a little...

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