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Best Poems Written by Tomas Vincent Marra

Below are the all-time best Tomas Vincent Marra poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Better To Be Asleep

Sleep come
And best that it is fast 
Deep and dark with no windows 
Facing east
Sleep come
For it is 
better to be asleep.
It is better, 
than to dream
Better to be asleep 
In these days of rust
Than to fracture and fade
In the wilting sun

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

I Ronin

True patience means bearing the unbearable 


Once I 
Lived 
bushido
At Heart.
Served my lord, 
Wielding carbon
And steel
In fidelity.

Cast aside,
I have
No master now.
I will not taste 
My blade
Outcast,
I wander the
Rising sun
to know
The Way anew,
And to learn
I again 
for the first time.

I

Ronin

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Grammatically Speaking

love was a lonely Syllable 
Embedded hypothetically  in the 
syntax of the
Story of
You and 
Me

We quoted ,
I love you
And you , sic [loved me] 
But perhaps
this was 
Your hyperbole

Parenthesis
you
kept
[Me] in, 
Frenetically 
in case 
our verbs
became nouns
No verisimilitude 
Imbedded logically

the allusion
Came alive 
Described
So 
speciously 
All too clear 
Once I chose
To study 
The 
history

No, 
The Plot discovered,
This was
My own soliloquy 
Dear Apostrophe ,
you and I 
We are not 
Like simile 

Truth be told
I only resemble 
Footnotes
In the ledger 
Of your 
Poetry

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Frightened Rabbit

Frightened rabbit
Don't mock the earth beneath your feet.
It keeps you grounded with your head facing the stars.
Don't fret the wind on your face.  
It reminds you of the breath in your mouth.
Be still.
Lift your face to the sun and think:
Surely this is meant for me.
Remember: 
We are all third rock from the sun.
Brazen and bold…
Ripe for picking

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Under the Killing Moon

I arrived tonight in 
Gesthemane
With Stories to tell and 
things to become
You, you remained
In vigil 
Adrift in your aerie,
A bright laconic moon

I have come to drink 
Deliberately 
And take from you  
Take the silence you offer
A Silent cup 
To all who wander 
With stories buried 

Here in this garden
I wait in your reflection , 
under your umbrella 
In wait for word 
Of 
Your 
Blessing

word does not come
So I wander 
through this garden 
To the edge of the horizon 
where water meets the night.
here, now, I see what 
Faces me 
Illuminated of the moon
Reflected back at me
Flesh and tendon are
Twisted and disfigured
In a monstrous frame
The bones of it frighten me
Awash in new light
Unable to tell if 
I've been broken free by moonlight
or merely revealed 

choices to be made 
Freedom on my tongue
And the wind at my back
I remember that the night is cool
And the night is young 
And so with rumours of what lies ahead spinning in my head, 
I run 
I run with
The forest behind me,
I run towards the fine horizon,
Thin and opaque

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Forest For the Trees

How easy 
It becomes 
To lose yourself 
In the forest 
Of your own 
Mossy head
Especially on days 
Where  the thoughts that line the canopy
Get stuck on the low hanging branches

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Rain On a July Afternoon At 300 Pm

I loved you 
I loved you 
I loved you 
Like rain in July
rolling across heated streets
Dancing with the trees
With each successive gulp
Of thunder
The Sky breaks free
Leaving no piece of dry land
But like the rain
It came and went 
Leaving only a reminder in the 
Air that once there was a deluge

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Paper Empire

Your paper empire
Awash in nights' aether
Kite in a hurricane

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Sadness Grows

I see you little flower
Bright and quick 
Spiralling in your own
Desiccated gown
Of earth and dust
Sadness grows 
In the crack of broken
Concrete
Calling to 
My pedestrian
Tendencies 
Careful
Once 
Meted out 
I will 
Trample around your 
Petaled face
As I lumber through 
The 
The streets
In the 
Cold light of morning

Details | Tomas Vincent Marra Poem

Tilting Windmills

The pretentiousness  of I 
Tilting at windmills 
In the hope of 
Dulcinea
Little did I know that
My Shadow 
Had the only giants 
To be found