Pensive Poems

Written in Response to Pensive Solitude on The Eve of This Night Revisited

An outcast this night,
I mournfully sigh with gloom:
but, I make war, fight!
to defeat my rising doom,
and defend my haunted tomb.

pensive pollen

p e t a l s
fall like shooting stars
when windswept willows
w h i r l and wave
weeping no more~
veiled in volatile violets
emanating angst
of a spirit abandoned
within an abyss of seething scars
still bleeding
             yet pleading
clinging onto crystal clear crevices 
as time forever teases 
with

The Rain drops

Oh, my dear little rain drops,                                                 

Under the pensive skies, where stars weave dreams

Under the pensive skies, where stars weave dreams,
In the depth of daily existence that seems constrained,
Do not lament the poverty of the day, do not condemn it;
Tell yourself that you are not poet enough to unveil its riches,
For to the creator, there is never poverty, nor indifferent places.
In the vastness of each moment, where time

The Pensive Painter

The allure of mirage
         magnetic,
thirst unquenched
in hidden hope 
         unperceived,
insight intuits
crafty illusion
in life of reality, 
rational awareness 
         absorbed.

Onyx cloud clumps
         condensed,
shadow masked

Pensive Poetess in Pink

    Oh gorgeous maiden, with pensive smile.
    You will write well, I can tell by your style.

    In a garden you saunter, so flush with pink,
    Your quill shall require so much fresh ink.

    The flowers so fragrant fill the

Pensive Poets

Perpetually praising poet's perforce presence,
particular poets persevere penniless, proudly,
people present peonies, prizes,
poet's perennial prose, poesy,
pacific, provocative, purposeful,
painstakingly perfected, promising,
poet's prolific in populace,
platinum pens poised,
paper primed, persnickety,
pensive pinnacle power of poetic peace,
and posterity.

Pensive Without Robust Affect

She is pensive without robust affect
Her skin is placid, her hair nondescript
the artist either did not know her well or….
did not like her much.

She looks almost disgusted
With life? With the world? With a husband?
Difficult to say
but easy to see on her face

Pensive

My pen is having an off day
It refuses to write
It didn't consult the hand
To ask if this was alright
The hand said the pen
"You are such a pain."
Who do you think you are?
You are not the Brain!

Pensive

I write poetry,
Simple poetry,
As simple as can be,
My grammar isn't hot,
Or my punctuality.
Sometimes I find it confusing,
When my pen flows easily,
It takes on a life of its own,
Taking control of me.
It has a sense of purpose,
As it scribbles away,
The content and message
Become as plain as day
I am unaware of holding the pen,
There isn't time to

How Pensive the Poet

How pensive the poet who writes by the pen
The stubbornness found in the gender of men
The tortured young male who lives in the past
Who probably purchased some “white-out” at last

You probably think when you suffer and ache
That writers improve when they make a mistake
The point of it all is the point of a pen
The perfect

Gustavo's Rite

Gustavo’s Rite

He walked onto the harbor beach at sunset,
planting a small net on a pole like a guidon,
and setting soiled cloth bags around it.
Alone on the beach he began his dance.
Mismatched clothes flapping, he swayed,
then paced, then crouched to pat the sand
into a crescent, then stepped back and back,
dug sand by hand, finding black things
and

Pensive Moment Waning

those dueling branches
giddy to impress the moon
slow onslaught of night

desperation fades to black
a passive moment waning

Pensive In Croydon

Pensive in Croydon
colors blazing intensely
lazy day complete

afternoon furiously
fighting for extra moments

Angelus Novus

My eyes
Inseparably focused 
On the plain, colorless canvas
And yet
Still ideating
A bright, elucidating palette,

The golden curls
Falling over the strong, pensive face
Shown glancing 
At something unseen,

“Oh,” I wonder,
“What might it be that fixates you so?”
Do you heed caution?
Perhaps an undisclosed epiphany?
Or is it fear
Which makes your broad jaw drop?

The great, big arms
Spread wide open
Like a pair of

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