Short Unwholesome Poems

I can’t put myself out there
Emotionally, you know
The heart is really the most fragile thing 
Like a fine china cup
Outside, where it’s cold and windy
And hateful and unwholesome 
Spiteful and too bright 
I don’t want to be chipped more than I’ve healed 
I’m in this cupboard 
Safe. 
So my heart is Anxious. Anticipating. Angry that no one has come
Calm. Controlled. Cinched in place
I’ve succeeded in keeping hell out
But now heaven can’t come in...

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They pierce the unwelcoming night,
perserving eyes that receive nothing 
but an unwholesome darkness,
hot accelerated breath scorches the
freezing air, as it penetrates
in entirety her raffish body while a 
shivering anatomy provokes an age
of innocence, yet a stark awareness
of life’s tribulations, as she tucks in
her scarf, fastens her top button
before impetuously walking off into
the shadows to confront her next trick.

© Harry J Horsman   2022...

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Tempest foamy waves ahoy!
            Tempest foamy waves ahoy, Tempest foamy waves ahoy!
Churning the entropy of the unwholesome sky, ricocheting a greet of the everlasting eternally
a glow to enlighten, to pace in unbending, muse and her seven clues!
hence forth, cradling my cosmic lantern, the sun and the stars
To brim a splash, overpouring synopsis 
the depth of the churn and the chime, dancing duo to intertwine, sonorous a flight upon my ever-longing yarning soul, she!   


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