Suborn Poems - Poems about Suborn

... pulchritudinous ingots chisel and shades dazzle and illuminate umpteen reasons poetry is like a swirling, susurrus-sibilant chimera of innuendo arty souls, albeit vapid syntax around sere......Read the rest...

...The Gift of ‘Not’ Knowing I have toyed with the thought of free-will as a curse (Hell reserved for bad choices, but Grace earned a joke?) Is there madness or peace for those gifted by God (or b......Read the rest...

...Friends close say, “You’re addicted!” Stanford, “Meter, rhyme afflicted! So not with it! Wasting time!” My poetry! Is it a crime? I'm guilty! Yes! What's lost to them? I'm stupid too if sharin......Read the rest...

...Let the poet in me tell the world what I see, Won't you enter my dream, join the flow of life's stream, Make this world be a hummingbird's garden. Muse's beak probe your heart, so you too play a p......Read the rest...

...Don’t get my soul until I'm born, Umbilical is cut you see, Life's costs begin (though child IS free!) My sin now starts as I suborn My mother's breast and warmth, I cry! This love's reward? I......Read the rest...

...The Barretts of Wimpole Street Imagine you’re a woman, with a mind as trained, acute and fertile as exists. Imagine that your erudite, refined creations top each year’s best-seller lists. Yo......Read the rest...

...(Pierantonio Stiattesi really existed. He was somehow on the periphery of the Gentileschi social circle. Tassi really did send him a sonnet entitled, “Change, change, Stiattesi!” Some years aft......Read the rest...

...Imagine you’re a woman, with a mind as trained, acute and fertile as exists. Imagine that your erudite, refined creations top each year’s best-seller lists. You write in English, French and Por......Read the rest...

...Mystery this frail existence— leaning into heedless wind. Omen of pale dawn’s insistence— all are fallen; all have sinned. Distant birth’s incipient morn— divergent lives their myriad courses.......Read the rest...

...Treatise of love suborn Of feelings, desires shorn With parochial aspirations born On ritual wings bourne Romance brokered forlorn On christening morn, personal license torn Deeded by title; ......Read the rest...

...How strange now, this convo, contradiction A man who eats with no silverware, only fingers Asking why I don't love, with future addiction He laughs with whole body and asks me why From a diffe......Read the rest...