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Sean Winslow Poem
Hes there.
There when I walk her..
Home.
Hes there.
There when you answer your..
Phone.
Hes there.
There when we think we are..
Alone.
Hes..
Hes a Stalker..
Drone!
An eighth grade..
Clone!
Talks about you in a loving..
Tone!
Hes there.
There with hair from your..
Comb.
Hes there.
There laying in the grass..
Prone.
Hes there.
There when we think we are..
Alone.
Hes..
Hes a Stalker..
Drone!
An eighth grade..
Clone!
Talks about you in a loving..
Tone!
I should've..
Thrown.
Thrown a..
Stone.
Thrown until it was just..
Moan.
Thrown until it was just..
Groan.
Knocked him out like Sylvester..
Stallone.
But now.
Now your indefinitely..
Postponed.
Dethroned.
Gone.
And still he is..
Hes a Stalker..
Drone!
An eighth grade..
Clone!
Talks about you in a loving..
Tone!
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
Stand before you take a bow,
think about us then and now.
Grant the sun another set
to polish this serrated day.
Show me what you can deduce
for splintered love we thrust obtuse.
If merged as one we do attempt
to leave this path we've led astray.
Do redeem the wayward doe,
with staunch eyes on grievous crow,
haunting skylines absent truth;
The once divine, nevermore.
To perceive pure innocence
is to pursue true penitence;
birthing promiscuous saints
from every celibate whore.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
My tears aren't enough
to stop the flames.
The Smoke settles in
to dim the blame.
Its already taken my heart.
Stop this inferno 'fore
it turns me hollow.
Leave me charred
to drown in sorrow.
Clear the ash
so I can breathe tomorrow.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
Without the Love
Existence is a birdcage
Desolate and cold
Finding comfort only in itself.
Without the dove
The cage is a mere antique
Lonely and useless
A burden to the space provided.
And yet, with Love
We are only the culprits
Thieving and murderous
Suffocating the doves life with fear.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
i unraveled
the newspaper
the suns travels
the days labor.
another rise
another fall
worth the price
after all?
more blood
spilled
kill or be
killed
to fill up our cars
your home must be drilled.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
Now I'm leaning on the edge
Giving in to fall
Everything's so far away
Everything's so small
Try to stop my demise
Reaching out my hand
But I'm falling to fast
All I feel is land
The earth shakes beneath me
Leave me cut and bruised
Yet pulled back my eyelids
To all I did lose
A quick glance at myself
I'm covered in dust
My hearts fading metal
Shifting into rust.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
In the distance
A stranger sees the smoke.
His attention is heavily veiled
overburdened under an obsessive cloak.
a shrug to forget
Unable to shed his curiosity
his focus exiled within
this animosity
A few goodbyes
departing his tent now
with only a tiring pace
his lust for truth made avow
Forever he runs
until the sun begins to set
it's too late to falter
still closer he gets
The sky a distant gray
tempted by the aftermath
the remnant of a blaze
suffering twisted wrath
His breathe seized
arms begin to shake
about to lose himself
in more than he can take
Amongst the burnt logs
The ashes dispersed
a simple gesture
a sight most perverse
Sorrow overtaken
perplexed to the edge
a whimper away from
transcending the ledge
Covered in ash
scarred beyond recognition
someones everything
someones simple proposition
This innocent bystander
Overcome by defeat
driven to madness
As he hears its last beat
There, burned at the stake
A tragedy galore
His trust, his love
His very core
This man witnessing the
demise of my black art
the source of curiosity abroad
My charred, fractured heart.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
A simple sight a single ladybug
Waftin' out about my coffee mug
On her way today to see
That lovely little bumblebee
Who hides amongst the trunk towers
A field revealed with new flowers
The daze of praise vacates a shrug
A simple sight a single ladybug.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
Won't you be a chapter in my history textbook?
Be the co-author, never bothering me
to share the stars and most the sea
with thee woman who's sposed to be
a better motion reasoning
through empty aisles beckoning
me closer still, epiphany,
the rush of crushing symphony
the truth has posed as potpourri
amongst the bulbs on every tree
with poisoned poignant cherry seeds
choking hope entwined with me
a vintage vine of broken glass
a splintered mast before we cast away
from here with sailors sloshed to sway;
leaves rewind as they jump back to be
a sign of prosper for the tree
which meets the air inside of me
beaming rings of symphony
that rise towards skies now lounging loose
as if on antlers on the moose
up above the pale true noose
they are your halo if you choose
to chronicle the strife of life
or be the sheath which hides the knife.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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Sean Winslow Poem
Running through the open fields..
Cutting by the barn.
Running through a shallow brook..
You're fleeing from harm.
Running to a friendly face..
You're safe now in my arms.
Copyright © Sean Winslow | Year Posted 2009
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