A tremor,
a sudden shift,
like the earth beneath.
A hidden fire,
ignited swift.
Not gentle touch,
but a ripping sound,
a tearing through,
a force profound.
Not easy smiles,
but a desperate need,
a hunger deep,
a soul unfreed.
A raw, fierce thing,
not tame or mild,
a heart ablaze,
a burning child.
Not whispers soft,
but shouts unseen,
a violent love,
a love keen.
PS - IT’S POETRY
Not merely words laid on a line
by blotting pens, by pencils fine
nor forms in perpetuity
teased with ambiguity.
It’s more, or less, depending on
the time of day, sunset or dawn
forever of the present mind
seeking what it cannot find.
For beauty is an “ugly” thing
a constant poets rarely bring
to broken lines of unfreed verse
to garbled words both sweet and terse
and yet it finds a way to bloom
across a page, throughout a room
crisp roses that will never wilt
petaled words - poetic quilt.
So write, erase, delete, reform
the present now become the norm
and you, the poet, must be free
‘cuz after all…. IT’S POETRY!
John G. Lawless
©12/8/2021
Raping the sky of its luster,
a new darkness began to imbue
Draining the ocean—taking its salt,
a pillar for Edith renewed
Shearing the top off the mountain,
its crater to hemorrhage and bleed
Stealing the promise from every hope
all faith left to weather—unfreed
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2020)
Before the rise of the sun
just before breaking dawn has begun,
shadows haunt the hallows unfreed
where whispers slip in and out the trees.
The leaves step lightly along the paths,
soon, the trees bare their naked dances
as the wind rises to tease the last few branches
to release last leaves of summer aftermaths
to dance and race along the cold footpaths.
Alone, lost the wind begins to cry before the freeze
a whirling whine within the lower trees
announcing autumn 's end to the harvests;
hidden in between the skeletal figures alarmists,
a lonely howl that rises before the sun
and all the forests weeps at the end of season run.
Here it comes, the mighty bellow
of winter fall beyond the warm and mellow
screeching in the shadow of the hallows
whistling the song hung like gallows
of spring and summer lost to the darkened shadows.
the foreplay and afterglow
isforgotten in the show
of virility and might
so she cries into the night
She's uncherished and unsought
All his tenderness forgot
In the rush of passion's need
Fantasies remain....unfreed
She remembers yesteryear
When he clasped her, held her dear
Now she's just a bedded form
Lost in her desire's storm
With a sigh her closes eyes
dreams her dreams of paradise
where her love she celebrates
and her wants she consummates
Where she smiles in wanton bliss
as she's bathed in lover's kiss
in a place where fertile mind
intercourse with body finds
where foreplay and afterglow
build up to climactic show
and love pounds with wondrous might
leaving joyous tears in sight
Eileen
This is the case for many in long term relationships. Relationships should be nurtured for the flame to burn bright.
Giving up the ghost
Stolen from a ghost my heart I no longer need
Drifting through an assemblance of memories forever unfreed
Listen to the morning birds sing again just like yesterday I heed
I am but a splinter on a world that no longer exists but dreams feed
Aware of this fact where do people go to when cold breath punishes us in deed
No feelings of laughter or joy in anything I watch or listen to this place is for humans to live and die in greed
To live on would be a contradiction of what I once hoped and lived for but I regret the road it leads
No happy endings on this Earth just to live without any true purpose then watch myself shrivel till going back to seed.
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