Hemlock Poems - Poems about Hemlock

You and I, we are, two polar petals, laced with arctic blue moonshine of soft sweven-hymns and sunburst apricity of aqua-gold tides, reminiscing mauve hours, when our love waltzed in teal faithful lakes hued with ivory ink of coral kismet, shimmering in wine-auroras, but now we just trace poisoned pixie-dust, upon each other's frail fate, sinking in folklores of shaded red canopies, as I bleed stardust in ebonies of hellfire heavens and we fade like...

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The spotless swaps are filled with bright hemlocks Slaloms brighten the looming metal fence Footsteps ring in the darkness of airlocks The spotless swaps are filled with bright hemlocks Under a load of plants, gates groan and shock A moment when nothing pleased your senses The spotless swaps are filled with bright hemlocks Slaloms brighten the looming metal fence. Written: March 22,...

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As Socrates calmed the council by speaking up, Í, slow and aged, being sentenced to drink from the cup. Being condemned by truth as guilty iniquity, injustice phenomena throughout antiquity. Í abide my sentence and so will you all, perhaps it ought so to be, by a greater call. My prophetic voice as guardian deity, must warn you about trifling affairs of...

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Some would say, the danger portends Some would say, it all is pretend Some would say, the past wears a shroud Some would say, the quiet is loud Some would say, all love is for fools Some would say, to break every rule Some would say, today is unsure Some would say, tomorrow the cure Some would say, the hammer is cocked Some would say, the target is locked Some would say, the...

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Hemlock? Or Are There Options? There are poisons we relish and those we despise, but most innocent breaths, the clear water we drink, have a role in life’s probable end game, I think. We are dying from birth; most plagues plans we devise! Oh, does sucrose make sweeter the strychnine we sip or are volcano’s shrapnel, hot gases, and ash (that may...

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What killed Socrates. a weed or Aristophanes? What caused an end so dire? The law or just satire? The cries of ignorant crowds. or something in 'The Clouds'?...

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Juniper prevails where hemlock heathen dine As breeders of the weaker worlds increase A persuasive drink, the final glass of wine Spiked by grand deception ruined Socrates Slither those who slant to slander Bodies styled from a wicked Cain Betrayed by his honesty of mercy kinder Of universe, a mind for generations slain Still the breeders slither loose among us Full of fruits from...

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When fog creeps in to sheathe the point, obscuring paths among the brush, unseen loons, hallooing one another, map out this realm of hemlock, rock, and water. Loon cries vivify fireside conjuring, old camper’s tales, for the point’s new children: they glimpse fabled elders, conveyers of craft and lore who made a mile or more of winding roadway through cut and cultivated trees. Loon cries reassure us as we...

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His last kiss cast poison upon my lips Wine of sweetened hemlock I'd taken sips With little time left for pain and sorrow I write of what I shall feel tomorrow. In life I never knew what my heart held A master of deception, he cast spells. Too late did I see what he made of me, A porcelain doll that death...

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The image I imagined, Alas! It has not passed. For I am afire with carnal desire, unquenched and dying fast! My sweetest bane, I shan't complain- you are my Love, my Death, my Pain! Through my heart, a stake! Oh, do indicate the grave where Love was lain....

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all but one lonely soul hangs from limbs of tired trees in a dense forests of hearts, and endless flow of blood through leaves. under one sky, under one moon; a canopy of hope set atop a floor of dreary dead, laid to rest in a damp field of dirt walked upon by careless feet. hollowed eyes stop and gaze to...

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Sleep my dear, sleep my precious Everything will be just fine Embrace this moment Breathe, give in to this Just one more step To your place of rest Just one more breath Sleep now, my love Close your eyes It will all go away Hold onto me I will protect you Just one more mile 'Til we make it home Just one more sunset Sleep now, my one Lay your head...

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My lips are black, I am drunk on the hemlock, proferred by you – my life. I am still in love with pain. What not, the trial tried to break my resistance. I will walk on my hands paraplegic legs lifting my eyes. Why did you want me to fake a death. She was my lover, my shadow always walking along with me. So, you did...

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Hemlock Taken Hemlock Taken Socrates in Prison making mention of the time passing “the time is passing” eye am Socrates The maid forgot to clean my cell again the kitchen sent the hard old rolls again and the water bowl is fetid eye can not wet my weinersnitzel properly the boy is never with me...

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