A hope spun out on spider’s thread
that breathes new life into the dead;
a grace that lies within the breeze
that lets the gifted breathe with ease.
A long draught for the thirsty man,
and sunshine for the darkened land.
A song that breaks the silent night;
a balm which makes the weary light.
The feeling that the poet seeks,
which brings a blush to ladies’ cheeks;
the artist who paints over blue
by simply saying, “I love you.”
Autumn flowers
in earthly shades
fall in showers
as summer fades.
The die is cast,
its face unknown;
behold all the hopes
in this little stone.
A moon in the night,
a song of the stars
that whispers, “Come what might
you know just who you are.”
A song cuts through silence
while warm tears thaw grief.
The words, “I love you,” save
with steadfast belief.
Weariness oft follows strife
down our winding road of life
and it takes a strong and righteous will
to persevere beyond “the kill”.
Each time I come to you the same:
beaten, broken, crippled, lame
with tears trailing down my face
and begging for a moment’s grace.
The dawn breaks upon the night
like a rolling, crimson wave
and that meager scarlet sight
gives some the courage to be brave.
The winter chill reveals my breath
though over-exposure promises death
there are some who brave the night
in search of something just out of sight.
A poem based on the above image:
With every inch she rose,
she carried herself straighter;
and fearful of that confidence,
her opponents chose to hate her.
(original source for me was this tumblr post)
A (wise) man of two faces 