Whittles Poems - Poems about Whittles

...Wings of fear flutter nightly in my heart, a terror-taunt haunt that whittles my thought; the brutish fist bruise-blackening heart-art - my past-smashed man, wars in your head thought-fought. T......Read the rest...

...I don’t want to die, the spring doves cried. Down the streets and coffee shops each step in the pavement whittles it down bit by bit. I don’t want to die, the flyers say, through ten laye......Read the rest...

...the tempered veil of years with a weave of sweet and sour can be lavish like the pleasurable return of good deeds take what you learn from sky high places that ......Read the rest...

...As the queen of the night, the lamp blooms on my study table, illuminating my thoughts. In the darkness, the torch whittles a way for my vision. ......Read the rest...

... Fear not that critique whittles my will, Fear that lack of such may wilt my quill. Fear not a lonely path in the dark, Fear my pyro craft runs out of ......Read the rest...

...Argentina's son, a lineage to immigrants shaped by boyhood aspirations diminutive left foot striker taunted "dwarf" in childhood his growth hormone deficiency overcome thr......Read the rest...

...It's fall and trees are turning brown, they beat small and swirl in the air, wavy, curly, crimson, blonde, bare. Life's gold ring slightly free to drown, around a bright world went ......Read the rest...

...You know, it is rather difficult to discuss mental health The simile of the racing thoughts is a swift flight Swift, and Intrepid like an Arabian horse, Sometimes, too hard to decipher, even.......Read the rest...

...Bedsprings crochet bones together. His back is sutured to gripes stitched to gummy joints. In the toilet, avoiding the mirror, humming softly, shunning conversation with himself - the ceiling......Read the rest...

...The cedar dock splinters out to the moon's shine Like the second hand ticking along A white-faced clock Drawing in loose boats and green moths To its sweep of time Is there any difference Bet......Read the rest...

...Hours nibble at a back strain. Tenuous strings were pulled lifting water bottles. You wonder how weak and fragile you are. How vulnerable to these ancient red tides within that can bend your i......Read the rest...

...With a pocket knife, he whittles wood--life in a wicker chair on his porch. Willow in yard, breezes wave this fine tree, planted when his girl was five. He weeps--wonders where she's gone. ......Read the rest...

...With a small blue pocket knife Willem whittles wood, fashions simple dolls. His old-age life consists of morning rations: stale bread, coffee, a few almonds, apples he portions into quarters s......Read the rest...

...~ for Sami ~ oh ... a pity, that … such sweet sadness, yours my lovely lass, lost ... do not let your lip tremble so ... it was not made for such iniquity it was not shaped to sublime......Read the rest...

...Bedsprings crochet bones together. His back is sutured to gripes stitched to gummy joints. In the toilet, avoiding the mirror, humming softly, shunning conversation with himself - the ceiling......Read the rest...