Cinematic Poems - Poems about Cinematic

our long lost love in depths of time our story like a folk tale started with a kiss and ended in a torturous goodbye will passed down in time to be recited for generations was never too pure and dark in my wistoragic periphery, i saw you come and leaving i wonder, what if our mondegreen conversations never led us to different places? what if...

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Yes, I affirm, I have seen God But He appeared and then disappeared This knowing that transcends mind, left me awed But until what’s imbibed is assimilated, by fears I’m seared—Unseeking Seeker Espied my footprints in desert sands, longing to encounter Him in the Holy lands Vision Cinematic once upon a time suspended from Homers stauros—a sign? Hither poet ere Christ...

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we are actors arguing in plotless movies performing within disconnected realities muddling through absurd battles hoping for direction striving to make sense of our roles in a cosmic Cinema of the Absurd...

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I have a confession to make. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard, or witnessed a case like this But uhh. I have a problem with falling for someone too hard too early It’s otherwise known as blind love syndrome. I don’t know why it happens but it seems to me like my heart loves too strongly...

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CINEMATIC OVERTURE absentee teen had thrown money at mom, due, but all the same simply unyielding. a few days flew by, bird wings with no lullaby. a movie dirge of unquenchable thirst — replay of first few minutes, progress slow, the clock hands click and clatter, a matter of picking up the phone. a friend forfeits her loneliness to come with her to...

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She sits in silence with blood sliding down her fingertips, Pain traced across her face but a smile curls her lips. All these lovely memories have now crumbled all to dust, In these fading city lights love has bled for lust. Never ending cinematic playing in her head, Of all the scarlet demons moaning in her bed. Lying in her blood the pain hurts more inside, Bladed edge may...

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Only one room of the home of thatched roofing Night nest my childhood grew up On the reed mat, at the cow dung floor We slept in a line warmly in whole room With the portion of my dinner, given by my mother In the evening I came, Grandma’s home ever Grandma, Grandpa, seldom with my brother Nights I spent was...

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Sundays, my mother and I watched movies on PBS. Jezebel, Sabrina, In the Good Old Summertime Bette Davis, Audrey Hepburn, Judy Garland. I practiced their detached look of desire In bathroom mirrors, when no one was looking. I learned to smear lipstick across my face, As if readying myself for a ball, And dot the beauty mole where my lips creased...

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