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Best Poems Written by Winter Wallace

Below are the all-time best Winter Wallace poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Dear Me

Dear Me,

I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid

swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts

Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity

Be better,love more, hold on.

Dear Me,

Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die

Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

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The Day That Died Forever

When I am Colder,Older and then alone...
I will collect the sky on my own...
When the art has faded and the days then fade-
when everyone has gone away...

I may finally see what never was saw
.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhh............... the quiet sky

The unlit room which bares my end...shows the flashes of my pains my joys and sins.
This life has been a strange one since the curtains were drawn
These paper and plastic figures have clouded the dawn

I was once younger,foolish,and obsessed with truth
Now I am bitter,sour,dour faced with my heart under shoe

The children were all searching or lost in a crowd
All weeds in a garden...growing vile and foul

Though beauty was sold it never came true
Obsessions and vanity have traveled safe through

Materials and poison and everything lost
have been burned in the fires or lost in the frost

I stand face to mirror tearing my being apart
Winding thoughts of love,pain,god,and art

As the sun sets and the darkness grows
I too shall follow this pattern in tow

Death has a friendly hand and a pretty face
She has given me comfort as I leave this place

The wars have occurred,humanity's lost
Souls have been burnt in the fire or lost in the frost

Day was Life,Night is Death

And the latter has given counsel on my final steps

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

Details | Winter Wallace Poem

No Parachutes,safety nets,souls,or hope

Love is whispered and not forgotten
If this be so
I deaf to soft lipped invitations seek no thought of hope
I of no past collection hold thought
To forget is gruesome and beautiful

My eyes, swift allies in my war of world tell no lies

Silent in the 4 walled chalkboard blue
Shakespearean mad men twist their tongues with words of bland hue

I believe the concept of Ugliness is more profound than that of beauty
Dreams of my bladed face fill up behind my eyes...scratching my mind

Nothing goes SURPRISE! anymore
To love and lose is not the exciting protagonist to never having lost love

the optimists run in circles
pretenders of despair hunt themselves

Every street is Desolation row and my window is covered with blood

Nothing comforts anything
No advice

....just surprises

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

Details | Winter Wallace Poem

It Isn't Arcadia but It's Darker Than Hell

This is where death is the child and I it's Laborious hand holder

Jagged night, lean souls
blackened sight in the martyr moon
crooning crows and brazen ravens tear the skies through

Crooked grins and demon walkers make the evil hallow
and the meek surrender

Beads of fear saunter a stream's pace down my tired countenance
The weary die. Her voice bleeds a susurrus...
"Doth thou arrest my love"
I only reply true "May I arrest the blade of my weary foe before I arrest thy poison kiss"

There is a place where the mad prophets speak
Where god speaks confused tongue
Where Babylon is anew

This is where death is the child and I it's laborious Hand-Holder

-Kalonji A. Davis

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2010

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Diamond In The Rough

The Diamond in the rough has been lost in the masses of panicked flesh
He looks through the eyes of the unnoticed,
He thinks with the questioning of his being,
He only looks to escape the day

The Diamond in the rough only leaves in the night
bereft of joy he entraps his plight
He makes music alone waiting for pain to escape
he looks in the mirror and cries at his face

the Diamond in the rough he's escaped far away
He's tired of the masses he sticks to like clay
He walks the silk plains and travels alone,he's severed all contact with his past and his home

His potential may be realized and maybe it won't
He writes in his soul what his eyes have absorbed
They hear it and like it but they always want more

His soul's been exchanged by demons in suits
For MTV slots, platinum plaques,drugs,sex, and a bust in a room

The Diamond in the rough,no longer there lies
but he's had enough he's decided to fly

The fame and the fortune has darkened his day
It's tragic, but masses proclaim him cliche'

He knew they would view him as weak,and then scared
Nothing else mattered he was always prepared

He couldn't fear fear any longer inside
Alone in a tower a diamond he died

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

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feral frustration in egyptian scrolls covering up government conspiracies tomorrow

sometimes I am a cigarette burning into your/my skin
sometimes I am a corpse rotting into your/my dark
sometimes I am invisible

often this is a noiseless void
often this a soundless numbing
often I am wrong

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2011

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City People

i am nothing but a ghost
fluidity and transparency
i am invisible at your whim
fluidity and transparency

from the corners of your self-importance i've gradually been dying
fluidity and transparency
i am nothing but a ghost
i am invisible at your whim

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2011

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Perverted Proclivities

A peculiar proclivity

I always dream of your pink embrace
I sit solemnly inside of the blood drenched summer without a worldly thought
I pray inside of your warm temple

A perverted proclivity

Sin is named my dream again
The tears in my eyes are now pieces of silver
The sky is dark and the everywhere dead
There is only the two of us
mirrored faces into jaded eyes

I used to dream of your warm,pink embrace
scared of the life possible to brew

My proclivity is dead
I instead travel inside of the shadows of darkest hue

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2009

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Did you see her walking?

i was disappointed she wasn't a private person
her smile was crooked and she took residence in my thought

She doesn't read poems or books
Only mirrors,programs, and columns...for her looks

I wish I never would have known her better
reality's a romantic's foe
like the fits of anger thrown by Bukowski or the dark and dank images formed by words of Poe
'Twas Harshly she spoke

She was a hedonist but not a libertine
She was ignorant and barely clean
eyes glued to magazine i wish i never knew this fiend

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2010

Details | Winter Wallace Poem

O'er here Lies Victorious Sin

As the dream went the women screamed for Chucky Baudelaire

Side scene alleyway dark night
Foot steps timidly trekked along the broken glass, sinner's hour

Oscar Wilde was alive and well with bourbon laden jovial tales

It was a languid night a night for lords to piss about, hens to cackle, ravens to make love

The ink was then my blood and poison, my god and death

As the dream went the women lusted after Edgar Poe
I was contently bitter and hidden in a meadow of urban shadows cast by tall,stark, unforgiving dens of 
depravity...these dens suit me well

The witching hour sky was wild and held the grin of my demon foe
Singing now are the cigarettes falling from the sky...
A most peculiar yet familiar night

I am awake again nowhere... pretending to be your chivalrous poet

Copyright © Winter Wallace | Year Posted 2010