Home » Poems » Best » Greta Veranes-Kitts » Best Greta Veranes-Kitts Poems

Best Poems Written by Greta Veranes-Kitts

Below are the all-time best Greta Veranes-Kitts poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Keep Your Eyes Steady

Dark days are coming, darling;
Dark days are on our horizon.
A test of our love-
 they'll try to tap our strength.
Keep your eyes steady with mine,
 and above all, refuse their light.
I sit here alone,
yet our fingers intertwine.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Love

Naked skin and sweet,
Laying bare in your embrace.
Another kiss; love.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Responsibility For Your Crimes

Decompression like amphetamine retrievals,
 you dive into a sacred pool littered with ritual remain.
This is no cancellation of your vows,
 this is no redemption for your sins.
Nor is this a place you go to without vision,
 not a destination you’d ever wish to call home.
I am caught in the eddy of all your former fires,
 I am swept under the rug of all your cruel desires.
Lead me to some land so circumspect and without leisure,
 I will find it liberating while you were hoping for a form of torture.
Don’t follow me there, don’t even try to say you know
 what it is you cannot destroy.
I cannot live where you live;
You cannot breathe where I go for air.
I am not redeemed, don’t hope for any better-
You’d be so rudely disappointed by these results.
I came here of my own accord and I shall leave on those terms-
Those days of discovery, those days of learning and receipt.
Hold the record, stake your claims.
Don’t misinterpret what it means to me.
Don’t hold recollections of our hearts’ demise.
I drew no line in the sand-
I never urged you to cross with any misinterpretation.
You dream like scorpions crossing desert pathways-
 no malediction nor cruel intention.
Just a complete lack of ownership for your crimes.
And avowals of responsibility for all our ruined times.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Remembrance and Gratitude

It abounds in full circles;
Tears flowing in the raging river
 of remembrance and gratitude.
Let me be your ladder,
 I will never leave you on your own.
Let me be your ladder,
 I will never let you drown.
Develop relationships with the dead,
 make them all your own.
I stayed with you in your time of need,
 you stood by me while I died for you.
Now I walk where the land meets your sea,
 waiting to find some calm tide.
May it come, or may it not-
I recall your eyes just the same.
In full circle are tributaries of sorrow,
 the dreams you left behind.
The ideas we try to live for you,
 the days we spend in recollection and recompense-
We live our lives where the land meets your seas.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

The Atmosphere of Shearing Metal

Everything becomes atmospheric in its nature: 
 the black rock holding open a door to a room with no entry. 
Redemption comes with a price, 
 but it is not for sale here.
Kind gestures mastering no weight,
 and music being played idly through a cracked window. 
Without your bright signs, or the screams of the unlucky who await within,
 there would be no patrons of your dead hostel. 
But we come for the screams and we come for the signs, 
and we come for the music we can almost hear. 
We are almost soothed and almost relinquish our personal peace
 for the greater apathy to reign.
 I am here with you darling,
 but you cannot even feel my touch. 
So gentle in nature, so tenacious in your attempts to learn. 
So blanketed with dream trees and angelic harps that sound only in your ears.
 This is my gallery to display the despair we call art. 
Lack of emotion and childless mothers abound.
 Come in, he says, Come in. 
And on and on they stream.
 With no tears for the dead, 
the brothers that we left by the side of the road.
 Too gentle in their tenacity.
 No ability to further progress in this procession of the damned, 
observed by careful observers from behind the glass.
 Cracked and broken and without a place to conceal their eyes.
 I am trembling in this wake,
 but I grasp your hand and we march on.
To great nothingness, 
 to empty years of needing some way to be free. 
Clanking glasses and shearing metal break my mind and bring me back to you.
 Where are you?
 And how are you going to take me away from here?
Here, where dream trees’ boughs bend and snap beneath the snow-covering.
We are burying the infants who have passed from this world to the next, 
 we are smothering their little mouths and tearing out their eyes. 
We must suppress the screams of the innocent,
 lest we believe we have a place with them. 
Follow their stoic departure and wish with our minds’ whispers
 that there was somewhere we too could go.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Ill-Gotten Gains

Anxiety ridden and broken down;
I back out of the deal and I cash in my hand-
All before I even know the stakes.
Or the taste of your sweat.
I watched your body hit the ground;
I watched your chest heave its last breath.
Now again, I try to reach for that same fallen star-
Forever waiting to hear a final cry.
That scream of discontent;
That sigh of malediction or lack of repent.
It is all the same to me 
When  I forget to breath.
It is all the same to me	
When your hands strengthen around my neck.
Believe what you will about my ill-gotten gains;
It is my glory, my payment for sins and mine to spend.
I dash about in a great hurry to go nowhere
And now and then,
I stop and I look anxiously around for you.
Hoping you will soothe my battered soul,
Forgive the sins I scatter recklessly about.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Noiseless Reductions

Noiseless reductions
Are pounding  on from within.
Will this never cease?

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Sacred Hearts' Vows

Interspersed with shadowy memories,
 the blades of grass blowing in the wind.
I find you desolate and without a weathervane,
 no one to direct you and you without a cause.
Some distant yearning,
 a heart once felt, a body lusted after.
Your own memories cascade through my head,
 deafening my own song;
Muting my screams.
With some innocence, 
 we both pretend to be born again.
For nothing really matters we say,
 not to anyone but our secret hearts.
So sell me what you will,
 tell me what you want and I’ll do the same for you.
But the truth is not so tainted,
 not so brutal that it ought haunt either one of us.
Fight the fight if you so chose,
 let it runs its steam out all on its own.
Either way, it is not our concern;
Not a matter of our hearts, if you please to see it so.
So do as you will,
 just do not taint our sacred hearts’ vows.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

When Tied To the Bed

Perhaps we should not have talked in the heat of the moment,
Not while it was dark and the moon was rising.
Perhaps it was like that car left by the side of the road;
With its windows rolled up and the steam not from love but decomposition.
Some things are best left unsaid;
Especially in the dead of night when you’re tied to the bed.

Details | Greta Veranes-Kitts Poem

Ruins and Precious Things

Ruins are abounding in that mind of yours;
Walls that have crumbled are causing pause for step.
Treading lightly in intention;
 don’t want to break the only pretty thing that remains.
Casual introductions are made in smoky rooms,
 smiles shared that hold no key to your meanings.
So you continue to walk blindly through
 the faceless crowd of serpents shedding skin.
I am your only guide;
The only one who knows where the fault lines exist,
 and just how to avoid them falling through.
From one nightmare to the next,
 you awake with an Angel by your side.
Precious things do sometimes sprout
 from between the seams of what was old and black to you.
Don’t be so afraid to ease your stride,
 or to peer above the walls of this enclosure.
It is only a pen made by your boards,
 and hammered in by your nails of memory.
Your demons hold no sway with me,
 not with my divinity or the pride of my kiss.
This is everything that you do not know.
This is what came crashing through the barricades.
Unstopped by soldiers, steel points at the ready
 and knives to our throats.
I walk as if on air-
 with no care for your vicious lashes.
Nor a thought to brutal intentions;
They have never scared me before.