adrian-alberts - Hello Poetry

Always a fire, flicker to flame Burn to respire, Blaze to reclaim Exhumed from the ash, Yesterday's ember Always a fire, Deemed to remember Always a fire, Set to be free Ignite the spires, How bright the debris Two Towers burning, Oh, what a scene! Always a fire, Fates's love in between Always a fire, The strength he brings Like flares on The Shire, Cups of the King And SHE -- The World, The Sun, The Star Always a fire, The Lovers afar Always a fire, Passions composed Like notes and strokes, Intricately chose Bound two souls -- The Universe, discerning Always a fire, February -- Yearning

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Jul 28, 2020

Jul 28, 2020 at 7:31 PM UTC

Always a Fire

Always a fire, flicker to flame Burn to respire, Blaze to reclaim Exhumed from the ash, Yesterday's ember Always a fire, Deemed to remember Always a fire, Set to be free Ignite the spires, How bright the debris Two Towers burning, Oh, what a scene! Always a fire, Fates's love in between Always a fire, The strength he brings Like flares on The Shire, Cups of the King And SHE -- The World, The Sun, The Star Always a fire, The Lovers afar Always a fire, Passions composed Like notes and strokes, Intricately chose Bound two souls -- The Universe, discerning Always a fire, February -- Yearning

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On this path, I've traveled far Bound by night, led by stars Somewhere, nowhere and in between Guide my chaos to intervene Hope is glorified doubt Before the voids transcend to drought Dreams are the midnight shroud- Battered moonlight through the clouds A simple mechanism to adore Like tides from a distant shore Or the fall of twilight sand As you try to mold it within your hands An artist's life- a passionate breath A subtle kiss divides joy and death Hail The Hanged Man! Let him be adorned. Commence the trial The artist reborn

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Mar 31, 2018

Mar 31, 2018 at 10:04 AM UTC

Journey of the Artist

On this path, I've traveled far Bound by night, led by stars Somewhere, nowhere and in between Guide my chaos to intervene Hope is glorified doubt Before the voids transcend to drought Dreams are the midnight shroud- Battered moonlight through the clouds A simple mechanism to adore Like tides from a distant shore Or the fall of twilight sand As you try to mold it within your hands An artist's life- a passionate breath A subtle kiss divides joy and death Hail The Hanged Man! Let him be adorned. Commence the trial The artist reborn

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It's as if there is a saddle ****** upon my heart A well worn invitation For everyone and no one at all Do you seek comfort? You can use it Need a release? Abuse it The axis of my heart has tilted Stranger nor Lover knows its form And though it now sets jilted The saddle keeps it warm

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Mar 2, 2018

Mar 2, 2018 at 9:41 AM UTC

The Saddle

It's as if there is a saddle ****** upon my heart A well worn invitation For everyone and no one at all Do you seek comfort? You can use it Need a release? Abuse it The axis of my heart has tilted Stranger nor Lover knows its form And though it now sets jilted The saddle keeps it warm

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There's solace within the rests... the subtle backbeats of existence dormant in my chest Enter the ghost parade- A soliloquy of love and pain Waning echoes in unison taut by fists and flames

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Mar 2, 2018

Mar 2, 2018 at 9:39 AM UTC

Heart Murmur (a tragedy of lovers)

There's solace within the rests... the subtle backbeats of existence dormant in my chest Enter the ghost parade- A soliloquy of love and pain Waning echoes in unison taut by fists and flames

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Shadows rise in her sunset eyes Our love, the light passes through By kindled hearts we thrive to abide a love that we both once knew But no bounds are yet forsaken Neither heart torn in two So let our souls reawaken the Universe, me and you

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Nov 23, 2016

Nov 23, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC

Standing in Perfect View

Shadows rise in her sunset eyes Our love, the light passes through By kindled hearts we thrive to abide a love that we both once knew But no bounds are yet forsaken Neither heart torn in two So let our souls reawaken the Universe, me and you

13

I am a serpent in the Sun With Earth, that trembles beneath me My shedding of skin has now begun A recoil of what it is to be And I'll use that skin to understand For what remains, is what I am An altered vessel A weary soul Taking refuge In a shallow hole Broken, tattered and torn Transcending through the stages Spoken, scattered and born A mending from words upon pages

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Nov 19, 2016

Nov 19, 2016 at 3:00 AM UTC

Serpent in the Sun

I am a serpent in the Sun With Earth, that trembles beneath me My shedding of skin has now begun A recoil of what it is to be And I'll use that skin to understand For what remains, is what I am An altered vessel A weary soul Taking refuge In a shallow hole Broken, tattered and torn Transcending through the stages Spoken, scattered and born A mending from words upon pages

14

Every day are moments With you I want to spend Within the folds Of your arms and lips Where all desires Never end

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Sep 30, 2016

Sep 30, 2016 at 4:56 AM UTC

New

Every day are moments With you I want to spend Within the folds Of your arms and lips Where all desires Never end

6

Hooks of bone A canvas of skin Frames the gift box Our souls hang in From the mind Our emotions walled Brushed to the surface When hearts are called A picture equates To a thousand words But few words, if great Renders all pictures blurred

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Aug 4, 2016

Aug 4, 2016 at 7:41 AM UTC

Decor of Being

Hooks of bone A canvas of skin Frames the gift box Our souls hang in From the mind Our emotions walled Brushed to the surface When hearts are called A picture equates To a thousand words But few words, if great Renders all pictures blurred

12

My thoughts like the guts of a jellyfish Swirl under a fragile sheath that is my stare From dormant tick to fortified tock, time has had its hands full with me For silenced words only fester within the absence of light Soon I will take my wounds, my scars and cast them out to be To dance among the waves of my tongue and sting who they may How I will embrace their sharp return... To rip this placenta of pain dawning a coma white that expends yet again

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Jun 8, 2016

Jun 8, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC

Jellyfish

My thoughts like the guts of a jellyfish Swirl under a fragile sheath that is my stare From dormant tick to fortified tock, time has had its hands full with me For silenced words only fester within the absence of light Soon I will take my wounds, my scars and cast them out to be To dance among the waves of my tongue and sting who they may How I will embrace their sharp return... To rip this placenta of pain dawning a coma white that expends yet again

18

Poetry is just scratches on paper forming dramatic words by an overemotional character Poetry is certainly not a pen that digs trenches for the blue blood to follow draining a soul to a sterile existence Who Needs Poetry Anyway? Poetry is all roses are red violets are blue blah, blah, blah I'm so in love with you Nobody cares about books Notice how the poetry section in the bookstores continue to diminish with every look? Poetry is certainly not as profound as the inert words lay gutted by the rapper which boasts his materialistic empire that his target audience consumes yet cannot honestly digest And you'll find the album in an abundant display set in the center of the bookstore Who Needs Poetry Anyway? Poetry is just something studied from history books to obtain credit A time before the internet and a true social status Before days rapt in vanity Poetry is certainly not a self sacrifice to explore the wilderness of the heart and the shutters to the mind An outlet to tread another day Who Needs Poetry Anyway?

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May 11, 2016

May 11, 2016 at 6:00 AM UTC

Who Needs Poetry Anway?

Poetry is just scratches on paper forming dramatic words by an overemotional character Poetry is certainly not a pen that digs trenches for the blue blood to follow draining a soul to a sterile existence Who Needs Poetry Anyway? Poetry is all roses are red violets are blue blah, blah, blah I'm so in love with you Nobody cares about books Notice how the poetry section in the bookstores continue to diminish with every look? Poetry is certainly not as profound as the inert words lay gutted by the rapper which boasts his materialistic empire that his target audience consumes yet cannot honestly digest And you'll find the album in an abundant display set in the center of the bookstore Who Needs Poetry Anyway? Poetry is just something studied from history books to obtain credit A time before the internet and a true social status Before days rapt in vanity Poetry is certainly not a self sacrifice to explore the wilderness of the heart and the shutters to the mind An outlet to tread another day Who Needs Poetry Anyway?

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