Strange Days Poems - Poems about Strange Days

When I don’t see your face It’s like the wind has abandoned sail And my sins become my fail For your passion has always saved me But on strange days when I’m denied your saving wind To guide me into intelligence To hide me from myself You know the me who second guesses Who lives in my head and digresses The me who would...

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You can’t burn out if not on fire You can’t be hurt without desire You can’t be found if never lost You’ll never melt without a frost Your memory void without a thought You’re never freed if never caught You’ll never plant without a seed You need the words to have a creed The past depends on present spent The pawn shop thrives on items lent The morning lost without the night The truth abeyant —wrong or right (The...

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In these days of covid and the likes you need to adapt a learning curve too right for in these darkest of days abound one must stand strong ready for the fight Whatever is yet before our eyes no matter its dangers and threats but there's inner joy and peace that somehow will bring no new debts Learn well to truly persevere to look...

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Today when and once i awoke Much like any other day With no or other apparent reason After giving up all hope of hope And instead of wishing time would stop and for the end to come I felt something foreign the strangest thing as if a blast from my past As for a single second i remembered what i was feeling was in...

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Gilded days, before the sudden rain, Hot, green fields of sweet sugarcane, Tree melodies that naught can contain, A meadow of the moonlit firefly reign! Oppressive heat in languid, summer rooms, And outside the windows, breezy blooms; Myriad azure days of their dreamy perfume, Make for the fragrant nights-an heirloom! Bush and tree stand in an idle beauty, Now greenly sheltering the bees' honey. Cheeky...

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Oppugnant and invert, are the faces of consciousness, so systematically permuted, are the intergalactic fences. When talking to nature, walking the trails of great explorers, while taking a troll around, and submerging in those dances. Distinct is the face of nature, For the man, machine and transients, A play it is, of the heavenly pieces, of perfect music, what are the chances? The musings...

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somewhere in the back of the freezer, there is an old gallon of ice cream somewhere in the middle of the refrigerator, there is a cup with some cold cashew milk in it somewhere deep inside of me, there is a hollow space where my heart used to be my whole body has been replaced by ice my whole mode of...

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