Stubbles Poems - Poems about Stubbles

...Twenty-four hours ago, the wind ran across the lake searching for a place to land. Some shingles followed, torn from their topless roots. This morning there is some abuse, feathers fly on their......Read the rest...

...In the morning in the mirror, the first face I see I grab the towel and wash my face to see a clearer me I can see it in my face that I can face today You are beautiful I say, before I walk away ......Read the rest...

...Money does not walk anymore. It talks as if he were a dead best friend that has let me down. I want to nudge it send it to loved ones with a note saying: "sorry this is all the talk I got." ......Read the rest...

...(for Columbus) In this season of hornbills and sesame grains, Your colors become sharper than war cries. In this season of brow-antler-deers and new rice, Our colors become bloody and drip like......Read the rest...

...He takes a tea-spoonful of reddish tonic. Dried stubbles sprout within his old skull. Memories froth in the vast past… His mom applies bitter neem paste on her nipples like the inaugural ......Read the rest...

...In stubbles of your kisses I search for red plums I heard your hair's Rumblings in clouds and Your silence broke a pine-bough Last night This morning a panting bud Sighs for a hopeful bloom an......Read the rest...

...ALLADDIN’S LAMP Walking a day by Almeria’s desert Where are shot Western films And other variegated games Suddenly I put mine’s right foot In the Alladdins’ mouth lamp And, in a flash, I heard ......Read the rest...

...A flamed anguish gathers in a bleak cellar of gray nights pounding on my veins, steaming through a roughened flesh; that in my days I have lost passion’s luster and solitude is the......Read the rest...

...have you ever seen a bird uncombed or a kittens hair disshovled is a lions mane unmanagable or a rodents fur in stubbles the wolves teeth are always straight never a miss aligne and animals ......Read the rest...

...Dark stripe night-like silvery shadow, Bottom of an earthen pot of a kind, Hallowed sepia-eyes of Black Dahlia in her dying glow Expressway etched intaglio, Through miles of my crazy driving ......Read the rest...