Poetry

I think that for this post I'm going to put up some of my older poetry. All of these were written about a year ago, so keep that in mind.








The appearance
The mist was not reason,
but a child-like abandonment.
O, the giving up
of our former selves.
The archaic cities became
and were gone,
shaded by a full white
breath.
It was then that I saw,
and all amongst them smiled -
The rain fell
from only four feet
above us.


Our place
And at times,
it will wander.
The slow moving
simplicity will
glide through our garden,
tucked away outside,
safe under the beech boughs.
While that faint and fulfilling glory
steals a glance at us from between the leaves
of our trees,
We will be -
and I shall sit with you
upon the earliest of mornings.


Absolute
I would sit there,
felt-moss and
purple leaves,
and feel the earth
in my chest.
That night's storm
of summer's reign
would bring wisdom
as the first
drop
fell.
I step,
and clouds move. . .
a unity without
dialect.