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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
Where did all the time go?
It feels like yesterday
When we ran through the sunflower fields
And it feels like tomorrow
When we lose all the feelings of youth
Where did all the time go?
Just last night we raised our glasses to the skies
And drank to new beginnings
In hopes of starting anew and change
But tomorrow knocked on our doors
And entered as we drank to new beginnings
Take me back, oh Lord, take me back
For God’s sake take me back
Losing our youth to the forgotten memories
Our future endeavours now result in cries
Reminiscing about childhood filled with voyages
Adventures that never seemed to end
Now ends in all of us asking the same question
Where did all the time go?
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
Previous nights were mellow and true –
Love had been tender,
Nights had never been blue –
Gentle as the dance, we swung
I hold Eleanor Knightley in my loving arms.
Crystals, amethyst and pearls she wore,
Around her neck diamonds were
Gold as her crown radiated with luminescence,
Extravagant as Egyptian Silk embraced her figure
Carelessly our bodies rhythmically swayed along.
“May I have this dance?”
I asked.
“Why certainly.”
Eleanor Knightley had manipulated my eyes –
Mesmerized by her flair and natural beauty
I am bewitched by the Madame's alluring charm.
As the night enclose –
I hold Eleanor Knightley so close –
Whisper the following words;
“The night may wilt, I say –
But the English rose blossoms foreverly.”
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2024
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
I hear violins playing
Oscillating in the auditorium
As the orchestra resounds
Behind the chambers of my heart
Bittersweet melodies plays aloud
I cannot escape -
That sweet summer rain
Which fills my heart
With such melodies of ballads
Shedding tears that reflects
I cannot escape.
Within the amphitheatre of the city,
I sang aloud lyrics of gloom and mourn
Behind the cages of my bleeding heart
I found the rain to be my shedding tears
As notes and sheets of music play
Violins and orchestra play in unison
Along with my brokenness I sang
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
Your petals wilt,
Your rose has resolute.
Fearing its completion,
Its ballet is sung,
Dragging its roots along
Your rose has begun withering.
Dirt covered masking
Leaves branching of torment
To drag your flower’s petals
Across the crimson pavements.
Your rose weeps and mourns,
Sorrow overwhelm –
Overwatering its cycle of growth.
Your rose wilts,
Yet you oversee its potential
Why must you carelessly love it?
Tend to its time of need, love.
Your rose requires – yearns
For love
Yet your love has become no more
Than a desirable response.
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2024
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
My dear, have you not heard the news?
The theatre has closed down.
Due to the riots on avenue and boulevard,
I do not want to gossip about it.
Find it on the latest tabloids and crusades.
Darling, the streets had spread the word
Of the Lord Stuyvesant.
His head was marched down our street,
Decapitated and hoisted up on a lance.
I could not believe the violence of our town.
What has our world become?
When I stepped out on the front porch outside,
I heard their foul disparage.
Youthful energies echoing scornful abuses aloud,
And the saints who endorsed it.
Shame on this backward world I was born into,
This life of inferno I was burdened with.
I swore on the night of my honeymoon rove,
To not bare children within this hellfire furnace.
I would rather suffer the same fate as Lord Stuyvesant.
To the mundane monarchy who live in their manors,
I could not run to tell my good man.
I do not want to gossip about any of the occurrences,
That has fallen upon these riots in our town.
Where do I run to, if I am in need of rescue and love?
The theatre had closed down.
Darling, if these rabid vermin would listen for once
In their twopenny-halfpenny lives,
They would not have the need to protest against
A system which have been nothing but good to them,
But they are far too gone now, it has all gone to frenzy.
So much ado about nothing.
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
Words are enough.
They don't some overdramatized definition of them,
Don't be a fool to explain it to me.
I'd rather die a lonely and cruel death, by my own hands.
Words —
They don't come easy, do they?
The blurry effect on my left iris left me partially blind.
It tears my other eye to see it in the mirror.
Words, they are spat out like fetid, rotting chunder,
Why do they taste so putrid and smell so obnoxious?
When I try to let them out, they escape through my eye,
Leaking and spewing festering dross.
Technicolor yawn mimics the man in the mirror and then
He would call in sick the next day.
As the pus decay in the drought and barren land of my eye,
I was recommended using Ciprofloxacin.
Words —
Words like "I need help" and "why does it hurt so bad?"
I wish I never knew how to speak.
Instead of the infection of my worm-eaten and vile eye,
I desiderate it be my mouth rather.
Words like these are what made me feel how I feel now,
Enervated and debilitated.
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
I received a letter from death,
Upon the hour.
"May the world pity you,
For your days are numbered."
Shallow are my waters I swim in,
I cannot pass on now.
My time is yet to come,
Please, I have so much more to live for.
Can I not salvage these years,
For they are what all I have left.
I am no more than a melancholic man,
Left for dead on a barren avenue.
Death locked me within this cage,
Of prosecution,
Of damnation —
And of plague writhing my bones!
May the world pity me as I cry out for help.
My heart will weep all the night long.
There seems to be no sympathetic heart
That will notice my forlorn sadness.
Does the world no longer hone them,
The empaths who made it bearable to
Live in a heartless world,
Such as this?
Death knocked at my door and entered,
Where I laid prepared.
Upon arrival, she kissed me on my lips.
Cold were they, yearning for her.
May the toll of purgatory be brief,
For I cannot endure this;
Ceremony of judgement and punishment.
Wherever my soul be guided to,
I ask death to walk alongside my new body.
Guide me wherever her throne resides,
But before I take my crown and ring as husband,
I kiss the cold lips of death once more.
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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Madison-Wayne Petersen Poem
I mourn —
Beneath her insipid skin laid
Vein tunnel hollowed
And beneath anaemic expression,
Laid a smile withering till slumber
I mourned a soul departing —
A soul so garish with love and light
Under the sun's rays she shone
A prismatic bliss of polychromatism
At the end of her devoted performances
Her branches fractured in bruise and scars
Trauma beneath the pipeline tunnels and;
Indentations of infliction by violent hands
Faintly, her vibrance languished to fall
Perishing under the weight of life's abuse
And larghetto into heaven's fáilte
I mourn —
The one who's time was fleeting yet eternal
Beneath deathless lights her beauty shone
Till the next time myself and her would meet
Once more, I'll have the courage to approach
And recite what I couldn't have said then
Her body frail in its struggling grace
Had never felt gentle hands on its surfaces,
But with caress I had vowed to have great caution
When the embrace matured to her beauty fading
On top of mine — I had allowed weeping aloud
I mourned — Her body laid rest before my rainfall of sapphires
Weeping and lamenting in melancholia
For the emaciated angel in her belle slumber.
Copyright © Madison-Wayne Petersen | Year Posted 2025
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