Hollow Poems

Swallow Hollow

Detection of orbs, orbiting my eyes

Perfection absorbs, and I'm paralyzed 

Broken and brittle, split in the middle 

She spoke without tittle, spit out a riddle


Follow the hollow, to swallow the hollow

Wallow at every turn

Wallow and swallow, or sorrow tomorrow 

Follow or ever burn


Baited, deflated, fated not sated

Orbiting eyes would burn

Hated, degraded, fated not mated

Some boys

Vows Ain’t Meant to be Hollow

She stood there in her white dress, boots dusty from the ride,
With a heart as wide as Heaven and her cowboy by her side.
She gave her word before the Lord, with every ounce she had —
To love him through the bitter, and the good, and all the bad.

But storms rolled in like thunder, as they

Slipping away

My head crashes to the desk.
Flashbacks—oh, so cruel.
A hammering heart, a desperate soul,
I reach to touch you…
But you vanish.
I run to you, but you’re always faster,
Slipping away again.
“Come back,” I scream.
He says,
“No, I don’t love you… I never really did.”
Silence. I stop running.
“No… no.”
Sobs break free.
My chest feels hollow—
Not from grief,
But from the absence of

Hollow Frame

A boy walks slow through halls of glass,
His shadow flickers, thin as grass.
Each step a secret, each breath a theft,
Of hunger’s war and weightless heft.

They whisper when they think he’s gone,
“Is he okay? He looks withdrawn.”
But laughter fades when backs are turned,
And eyes like his are never learned.

His plate remains a battlefield—
Each bite a blade,

The Hollow of Farewell

Watching the empty streets
As a heavy rain wash the dirty town.
Deep darkness drape the drives
That lead to dead ends.

Drafts of wind dash hanging pots,
Ruin is the reign of the time.
She barely breathed a farewell.
No whisper weaving a soft adieu
Not even a hug or a parting kiss.

My heart echoes a hollow hum.
It beats like the harsh

the hollow things

they took my voice and clipped my wings
replaced my dreams with rusted rings
the night now bites and silence clings
to shattered hopes and broken springs

the mirror laughs then softly sings
of haunted eyes and puppet strings
i smile while the shadow stings
a ghost among forgotten things

Gist was Hollow, Right to the Core

Hope began as a whisper,
curling across dark sea,
guiding my arrival,
to come see, and be.

Yet the gist was hollow,
empty to the core,
the rind of promise,
peeled off, fell down, to the floor.

The weight of empty words,
burned deep into my heart.
Cutting deeper than silence ever had,
because the promises were stone dead.

So my hope sits on edge,
waiting for a

Stitches

Shelley wove us a tale of a monster more a man
A fleshy beast without, a broken heart within
Created in hubris and sin
Stitched together and broken
Again and again.

Frayed and tattered
Unraveled and splintered
Brittle and battered
Bled out and injured

Held together by needle and thread
Less alive and more or less dead
A patchwork man, soulless and cold
Unmended scars numbers untold

I

A Fevered Night, Unscheduled Departure II

I creep into your room, my steps are unsteady,
You went to bed with symptoms of the flu,
A soft child’s breath is what I seek,
To touch, to comfort—to ensure peace.
But as I peel back the covers, I find
Your stillness is no longer sleep.

I call your name, my voice trembling,
Attempt to rouse you from your peace,
But you

hollow

i clearly loved you more.
if you had loved me
you wouldve put in effort—
we would’ve been together,
only if you had loved me.
you said you did,
but that promise was
as hollow as the way i felt in the end

The Sacred Hollow

Need some inspiration?

Title.
The Sacred Hollow.

(A lone voice whispers)

Have you been subtly conditioned to overlook your true potential? 

Does a voice sometimes whisper?
Whether in sleep or in daylight? 

Open your tired eyes wide and reach for the stars. 
See how far you can go. 

Cast off the chains of conditioning 
That appeared as you grew older.

The Hollow Stage

‘All the world ‘s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts.’  (As You Like it Act 2, Scene 7)

(A Sonnet Inspired by Shakespeare)

The Hollow Stage 

We slip upon a stage unmade by hands,
as viewers' eyes,

The Hollow City

(The Hollow City Cycle include:
The Hollow City
I Remember You -- the city speaks
Last One Left)

No footsteps echo on broken stone,
only wind dragging secrets through dust.
The city sighs—
its breath made of ivy and rust.

Windows gape like hollow eyes,
watching nothing, remembering everything.
A carousel groans beneath twisted vines,
still waiting for laughter
that will never return.

Billboards fade into ghost stories.
Sidewalks

Hollow Hands

I held it like a prayer,
like something sacred,
like something that could save me.

I built my world around it,
tied my worth to its spine,
carved my name into its walls
as if that would make me belong.

And yet, here I stand,
palms open, fingers trembling,
watching it slip through—
sand through clenched fists,
water through cracked earth.

I gave it everything.
And still, I

Hidden In The Hollow

Hidden In The Hollow
                        Of His Blessed Hand;
Never Foe Can Follow
                     

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