edgar-whitman-wildeWhisper

Irish
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the red tulips...there is a vastness here / where a small breeze, / the size of a decaying sorrow
37
Aug 25, 2019
Valentinefor all of us who know / the pain of valentines / that never came
7
Feb 14, 2017
Beyondlife lies on me like a coffin lid / the investment of a strange ventriloquism / where no one has imagined me
31
Jan 7, 2016
portent of war.....it rains / where scattered white mists / applaud the silhouette
38
May 19, 2015
High by the Lakeside at Sunriseby the lake at sunrise / a strange dedication hangs in the air / concealed in threads of mist
37
Apr 25, 2015
Painsunendurable, long and exhausting / are the pains / presumptuous in their plenty
51
Apr 19, 2015
My Eyes……for mine eyes are that of shadows…. shadows that don’t exist…searching out imponderable abstracts….these eyes…these emerald green colored eyes.. reveal the false tranquility of time and expectation… they can picture the veil of illusion that has fallen between me and reality…creating a painful impression of remoteness…while a blindness pulses through my blood…. my eyes beat like a blue sun from an electrically charged sky…they are my eyes….they are such as is…. would cause a step into chaos…an exodus towards the wastelands of fragmentation and depletion…. where fictions are invented daily and all Images change….. where the shadows of my eyes disappear in desperation…strung out in a black void…they cause me to take steps into the space others fear to occupy…my eyes…my emerald green eyes become inside the incantation of a new dimension….yet I am ecstatic in their awareness…..for my eyes are the windows of all the imaginations I possess….they are that shaky bridge between worlds where I take my heels…my eyes…my emerald green eyes…have chosen thus….. that both once closed to each are the opening…..the opening to me….
1
Apr 19, 2015
where the cullan trees liea yellowish shroud / is placed hurriedly / upon starched white sheets
66
Aug 7, 2014
the violets are deadmy heart ticks with the punctuated rhythm / of a girl busy with embroidery / i see a corpse and scrutinise all its secrets
25
Jul 28, 2014
follow the dead violetsi hear the collective understanding / of dry sticks as they crack / the shock of alarm signals
52
Jul 27, 2014
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