Private party

The social circle holding tight
long into the dark of night,
as each of them try to inspire
their companions by the fire.

But their company raises walls –
stone-cold sentinels that stand so tall
that those outside can’t bear to dare
to dream of being welcomed there.

Now the hearth just looks so cold
to the people who are told
that they just do not belong,
that they should just move along.

So they turn and walk away,
for they cannot bear to stay
and watch people that seem so warm
but treat them colder than a winter storm.

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Celestial Tear

libian glass 1 libian glass 2

A fragment of a fallen star –
ages old, yet without scars.
She shines like a diamond in the night,
piercing the dark with a silver light.

Now the sterling celestial seed
blooms like a flower amid the reeds
to bring such beauty and such grace
to an ancient deserted place.

A poem inspired by Erica’s jewelry over at Inspired by Nature, a handcrafted and custom jewelry seller that operates through Facebook and Etsy.  The unique piece that inspired this poem has been sold since this poem was written.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me through Patreon where you can get early access to posts, exclusive content, and more.

Little Morty

Little Morty 1 Little Morty 2

Little Morty, all in bed.
Little Morty – yes, he’s dead,
but Little Morty isn’t sad.
In fact – Little Morty’s glad!
You can see it in his grin,
how it’s painted on his chin,
and how it never leaves his face,
and how his dead eyes stare off into space.

A poem inspired by Erica’s jewelry over at Inspired by Nature, a handcrafted and custom jewelry seller that operates through Facebook and Etsy.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me through Patreon where you can get early access to posts, exclusive content, and more.

Rust

With a grumble and groan,
the trembling tower
clung to its “fifteen minutes,”
for well over an hour.

Eventually the strain
of holding itself high
brought the tower to its knees,
revealing the sky.

Now the steel Samson lies exposed,
and the vultures pick it clean
until a skeleton of rust
is all that remains to be seen.

*This poem is a continuation of a project where I chose a color, and wrote a poem on the first three words that came to mind. In this case, they were metal, weaken, and decay.*

Teal

The ocean rises, rich with rain
filled to the brim with heaven’s pain
whose tears were so great that they fell
to rise again with every swell.

*This poem is a continuation of a project where I chose a color, and wrote a poem on the first three words that came to mind. In this case, they were ocean, rain, salt/tears.*