Exile Poems - Poems about Exile

## I Tonight, I dig up buried footsteps, each stone beneath my feet weighs heavy with goodbye. My shadow walks backward through forgotten maps, following roads that no longer know my name— a compass spinning wild and blind, a voice that stumbles over foreign words. ## II The city erases me as I...

Continue reading...

Ever since I left you the sky has been too narrow and the light too heavy and I inhabit the flatlands like an exile, dreaming of the Blood of Christ mountains and mesquite. The scent of silver sage is the perfume you wore the day you seduced me as I wandered your streets with my soul still echoing from canyon walls, and the hush hadn’t yet left...

Continue reading...

Just one dusk at the terminus, the hourglass will shatter. No more pain, no more suffering, just the silence of a penance without sentence. My feelings, a procession of punishments. My condolences to all those victims who drowned their vigilance in the bowels of negligence. No allegiance to the urgencies of decadence. The decay of my celestial spark sanctifies its own downfall. I am nothing but a coffin of indelible scars, bound to...

Continue reading...

In the endless exile, where dreams melt like snowflakes under the sun, I discovered a secret world, woven from threads of shadow and light, where each step on the solitary path became a dance of falling stars, and loneliness transformed into a siren's song, drawing me into the depths. I was enveloped by a wave of humility, an ocean...

Continue reading...

Since I no longer fit in my name, I carry it beneath my heart, like a relic unearthed from a dead alphabet. It is a cracked word, written in blue ink on the page of a lost Bible in my grandparents' attic. People call my name. But their voices sound like a bell lost in an abandoned cathedral. Perhaps they never learned to utter the syllables of pain in...

Continue reading...

My bewitched heart is bleeding The burden of the banished Bubbly times we buried into eachother The butterfly of my dreams Though bleak times never seemed so bad...

Continue reading...

They came at dawn, no warning sound.. Just boots on concrete, bodies bound. A flashing light, a tightened cuff.. No time to scream, no time enough. They scanned my skin, a black ink mark.. A symbol small, but fate was stark. No gang, no crime, no war I waged.. Yet still they locked me in this cage. A land so far, no kin,...

Continue reading...

There are nights the gaunt moon pretends to be thunder to enrapture the hell heavy heart but tonight, she sings not sweet silence asunder no light from her lips shall depart ...

Continue reading...

A ruinous filth spills onto the page Like sap from a trees rotting heart Hands covered in black The speaker of my memories Smooth and razor thin An emissary of ink I envy the pen and it’s melan-written spiels Armored with a voiceless vignette It is its only way to prove that it’s master is alive Feverishly pushing its point to a fading...

Continue reading...

Sometimes it is hard to see God’s grace Sometimes all I can do is be obedient with a smile on my face Sometimes I can’t count it joy Sometimes I become annoyed and annoy Sometimes God in the cleft is His placement of place Sometimes we will be exiled to isles Sometimes the ashen gray of walls in cells Sometimes I need...

Continue reading...

I'm so ashamed That when I die I don't want a picture of my face On the alter Or at my funeral...

Continue reading...

Mark The earth turns its face from you as if ashamed. You who tilled the soil, now marked by what the soil received. Your brother's blood— how it murmurs, how it screams. Deafness would be a mercy. Wanderer At Babel, you watch them build their tongues a discordance of hope. You know better. The tower falls. Always, things fall. In Athens, questions hang in the air like ripe fruit....

Continue reading...

Is it possible that existence is our exile, And nothingness our home? In the twilight of thoughts, where shadows whisper secrets, I wander through the labyrinth of my mind, Each corridor, a reflection of forgotten dreams, Each door, a gateway to the unknown. I stand on the edge of reality, Gazing into the abyss of my soul, Where echoes of lost memories reverberate, Like...

Continue reading...

It's a question of what you can do. Well, I can work. That's what I can do. Yet, I can't be with people or be friendly. I just don't have it within me. That's why I'm outside. For this, I remain on my hill, on my descent. It's a crescent just for you and me. Just think, it's a fact, and that's just...

Continue reading...

In the interview board of the portfolio The question asked, How so? Is it not fornication? The ripley's reply was negative. “As you shifted the family tree into a money plant This is basically a spine inclination in influencing. The shadow and the light. And the gray in daylight. The intrepid tree shall learn to grow there. There.” The question paper...

Continue reading...