Confessions Poems - Poems about Confessions

I confess... I'm a cat in a human body surrounded by drooling deluded dogs I confess... I spew doggerel in a poetic wasteland as the wolves claw their verses on electronic pages and howl at their unamused muses I confess... I hide under a table or climb up a tree as the dogs of war merrily pant while mauling the world I confess... I'm guilty of living in the wrong country on the wrong planet at the wrong time but will soon exhaust my nine lives and...

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I told the mirror not to answer but it wept a name I had never spoken yours. The one with no god, no grave, only silence for bones. We made chapels of each other's mouths, your breath the liturgy, mine the dagger. We knelt. We undressed. We bled. Each kiss a benediction spilled on the floor of the forsaken. You called me a cathedral; I called...

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I've been making confessions to the Solar System Every night to the moon, every day to the sun I want to scoop the stars into a cup and sip the milky way through a straw and drink until my body is nebula and dust fills my lungs to satisfy the thirst for my obliteration to be in...

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Apophasis is such a cool word. Not to mention how it sounds like a popping fist and fireworks, though I wouldn’t dare suggest I’ve ever blown things up just for grins and giggles. It’s cousin to praeteritio, kissing cousin to paralepsis— all of them cool sounding words, not to mention parasiopesis which leaves the juiciest bits unsaid— but don’t get me started on this. Of course,...

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hold the rope tight, never let go of a safe hand the journey ahead is far too brutal to make sense what once seemed fated, shall shatter one's hopes the idea of love was born from a poet's thought lover's rose from the ashes to finish their lovelorn stories heart wrapped in barbed wire yet still beating- for the one who...

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First, remove the eyelids— they hold too much fiberglass. Grind streetlight into gunpowder, cut it with gravel—snort the cocaine dusk. Take the sidewalk like heretic communion, metal-flake wine, asphalt host. She blinks razors. Stars break in her clavicle. You don’t touch her—you calibrate. Banana fingers, bruised and humming, plucking vapor off the fencepost. Storm-laced teeth. Voice as hinge, breath as cordless vacuum throat tightrope over a cheap motel dirty...

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as the rosemary rain soaks pensive petals, leaving an aroma of lovers’ betrayal the succulent scent of his petrichor skin caresses the midnight crevices of this meticulous mind, urging my soul to purge tears and ink long mimicked by April’s sunlit rays synchronizing a symphony of robins a rhapsody...

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I crafted words at midnight, perfect in their form, Emotions spilled like rainfall before the coming storm. My fingers hovered trembling above the final key, These truths too raw, too honest for you to ever see. I saved them in the shadows where courage goes to hide, Each sentence held my heartbeat, each comma held my pride. The things I longed...

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A Photosynthesis of Conversion David J Walker The tender plants bow under the Sun and dance to the voices of Indecisive winds in A compliance of survival Confessions of sins of omission And confusion of missions Pay for admission to the Summer Social And when called upon Singing the sacrament of Dissonance in words that They can and cannot remember...

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The bottle pours too fast, gold-green streaks darkening the wood. It smells like something honest, I wipe it clean before anyone notices. ...

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Why mi heart would seh yes, When de world might cry no? De fire inside mi chest Burn hotter dan volcano glow. Mi queen, mi gyal, mi free bird, fly high— Ah see yuh in yuh glory, nuh chain could tie. Yuh skin glisten, de moonlight kissin' De...

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I poison myself to endure the torments of my clairvoyant mind, A journey littered with catastrophes and irreversible scars. I chase nightmares I will find in hell, My face drowned in the fleeting vanities humanity sanctifies. I am in no rush to honor my appointment with the reaper, Like a terminally ill patient who still dares to dream. I am trapped...

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My spirit is forlorn, frightened, and impaired. You’re not hiding here in this hideous hell; no longer your eyes, are broken in a cataract cell, instead, you graze in the free fields, feeding on the flock’s frivolous phrases, now part of a buoyant herd, while I wallow in the ocean's pitiful past, gliding in my hurricane of pain. You wander merrily...

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I am a thread unraveling, A song fading in the wind. A paper boat on an endless sea, Folding under waves I can’t control. I am vulnerable, Glass stretched thin, Waiting for the shatter. I break More often than I dare to admit. I break in silence, Behind closed doors, Where tears carve rivers Through the deserts of my resolve. Regrets hang like unfinished paintings, Muted colors of choices...

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I remember Cupid’s scent when December stars sailed, above vast seas of scars rippling with past mistakes, awaiting the euphonious moon to croon and tune melodies veiled. But will the skies in blues be the muse, casting dews of jasmine bright? For when shadows rise, darkness looms and...

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