Metaphor Cancer Poems

You stripped the jungles of the world
You blew the hunting horn
You chased the beasts out of the field
You pricked the bloody thorn

You drove the leper...

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I wasn't going to say anything
in that leafy Lincoln street
when you caught me pondering my life
and the many ways to die
but there was something about...

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- the mirror shows time of age
... the truth gives a bitter taste - Quote by the poet


They said she ate children and
the kids in...

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Night 3
It’s still in my garden.
It’s back with a vengeance.
I can it see it there, lurking:
face black and white, its tail mocking.
Three nights in a...

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White light, orange, yellow hot
Burning red, violet, blue into black 

Never meant to last. 
Casting all back…

The returning of the scar.
The flame is hot searing...

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I never got why you always
Ate the red pink color out 
The Sherbet ice cream

It was like excavation
How you removed all the cherry
Without even affecting...

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This is not a pipe
I can see that
No bite, or burn, marks
It’s just a piece of art
Nothing you can get a grip on

A pipe is...

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Looking back, one thing comes clean-glass clear
you were always there for me subduing every fear.

I tried to do my duty, be a husband strong and...

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After about fifty years as married wife
the last three fraught with strife
obvious telltale signs of terminal illness rife
hysterectomy irrevocably didst jackknife
at the least severely incapacitated
think...

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A tree after the fall or in winter,
Is not what it was, but a mere splinter. 
Glory stripped naked of it’s cov’ring leaves. 
Looks like...

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The Fashion Zebra

I am a flake. 
That is the term for people that do not follow through. 
It may not be fair. I have spent...

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'Tis I, your ruin ...
I, the scourge, unseen ... the "C" word
I am death's abettor, the bête noire
So do your worst, in my ruthless wake

The...

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Poseidon is blowing a current
Making a tormented sea
Reflecting what is mirrored above
Ugly yellow political stain
Corroded bubbling cancerous film
Spreading stealthily
But not silently

Waves of despair growing larger
Until...

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Look, a bird flits by the window,
red feathers, scarlet, a cardinal,
taps its beak on glass, it can’t go
past, it stops and darts its head ’round.
Jane,...

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Days are warm
Nights are cold
Yet still I feel the heat of the Sun
Scorching my thoughts into dust
The words I pen are a soup of poetry
Your...

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