Mystery Poems | Examples of Mystery Poetry

A tale of a town at night where birds fly, They die in the daylight, If they don’t assume a height, This position is their plight. ...

Continue reading...

Under the solar system in our basement I sat, copying schematics of superheterodyne radios from a book on electronics, while my dad, across from me, stood at his drawing board illustrating advertisements for feed and farm equipment. The floor was painted blood red, the walls bandage white— a battlefield made tidy. The dehumidifier murmured its hymn beneath Saladin’s ceramic gaze, his turbaned brow inscrutable as my father bent to...

Continue reading...

in iris i e s s l moon ...

Continue reading...

silence s p i ...

Continue reading...

They hang like a beaded curtain in a fortune teller’s parlor, each buoy a bauble from the sea’s own trove— sun-faded, barnacle-bitten, unstrung from nets that once strained tides for omens. Now they sway in the wind, rattling secrets and guarding the doorway to elsewhere. Who dwells behind the curtain— a castaway witch, perhaps, who brews fog in mason jars and weaves seaweed into...

Continue reading...

I stand here gazing at stars in the sky, Wondering what happens when I die? It’s harder to see with my own eye, The purpose of life as it passes by. First, I’ll consider the where, when, and why? Who or what it was, that caused my goodbye? What was important, whether girl or guy? A purposeful life, or is that a...

Continue reading...

To drink you in like a spring of light, in the mystery of the night unfolding Into thousands of silver threads, woven by stars on the sky like a silk canvas. Your body, a cathedral of desires, beneath my trembling fingers, Is a map of constellations, where our dreams catch and unite. Your serene gaze, a crystal lake in...

Continue reading...

Now, I don’t know why, he left without a word, returned from the grave, only to walk a road I could not follow. Someone must have held his name closer, spoken in a language I could not hear. I watch them exchange unspoken truths, a passerby in their quiet communion. And now, I don’t know why, she left without a word, came back from the...

Continue reading...

She started crying in the middle of rages— not the soft kind, but sharp, like she’d cut herself on something I couldn’t see. She slammed drawers. Shouted at a spoon. Broke a plate and sobbed as if the world had cracked with it. Before she left, my mother filled the kitchen with notes written on paper towels— taped to the cupboards, the countertops, the fridge. I couldn’t read, but...

Continue reading...

Death is the color of water rivers soft and hushed hard as bone chambered in the cold caress of silence the hook of dawn the wasting night reddest born skin of new fire painting shades in darkness / wrung this is the Death I breathe when fingers crack from holding the earth together holding you holding me …together Death is the color of water...

Continue reading...

Our true world is what we know best Yet leave our safety to explore What more is there beyond the crest Outside our world Within, we know that there is more And made to follow this, our quest With never knowing what's in store We leave our comfort zone with zest Which takes us to another shore And find it only when we test Outside...

Continue reading...

(Begin: There is no beginning.) (O' my--not again--you should not have started.) The quill burrows. No--splinters. No--fractures. No--was never here. Ink spills--no--veins spill--no--veins collapse--no--veins rewrite. The vowels--black-lipped--no--the ink coagulates--the ink tightens--the ink breathes- acrid, metallic, it stings the tongue. Teeth in the--grain. Teeth in the letters. Teeth in me--no--teeth in you--no--teeth in the mirror- splinters in the gum's raw edge. (First...

Continue reading...

Hey diddle diddle there's no more riddle I'm a fast learner I now know how the cow jumped over the moon from her afterburner by methane expelled through the air she's propelled the little dog barfed to smell such sport as the gas blown away made him swoon ...

Continue reading...

The old soul isn’t the same of King Cole’s The old soul is the growing indifference Past obediences turn to resistance Which the merry old soul never shows The old soul is a room of the old sorrows A portrait gallery of the passed away The old soul is a candle that burns night and day The old soul doesn’t...

Continue reading...

That night, when love appeared— not with thunder, nor with wings— but as a hush across the skin of earth. No stars announced it. No voice declared its name. Yet the sky, emptied of time, leaned in to listen. You— not seen, but known. Like warmth before the sun, or breath before a word. When your face rose in the heart of silence, the world paused— as if it remembered what it had long forgotten. I...

Continue reading...