david-w-jones
American
David is a writer, author, and blogger who enjoys creating literary expressions about everyday life. His poem "Touch of the Artist" is published in the anthology of romantic poetry by Vagabondage Press LLC (January 2012). http://amazon.com/author/davidwjones
listening to the wind
pushing rain against the glass;
voices crying out to me from
the darkness of my past.
thinking about the time
my heart lost its conviction;
when I was wishing for a cure
to this lonely affliction.
her arrival was unexpected
love at first sight;
she was the dream
that kept me up at night.
our kisses were mingled
with the taste of illusions;
our flesh dripping sweat
from the heat of confusion.
moments of passion led
to a place of discontent;
the fairy tale ended on
the bed of resentment.
our perceptions were lies
extinguishing the light;
her voice became silent
as she disappeared into the night.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
My spirit held captive,
As I listened to the rain
reflections of an inhabitant
emotions speckled on the pane.
A night of contemplation,
soul-searching restlessness;
tormented by a raven,
reaching the point of emptiness.
Feeling the pull of your memoir
those pages cutting my skin;
your voice is a reservoir
consuming my mind again.
Your name was never forgotten,
your lips have left their mark;
desires twisted and knotted
your presence divisive and dark.
Not sure I want you
Residing in my personal space,
Touching my thoughts,
Removing the mask from my face.
Alone in this domicile,
a choice to reside
away from love that is hostile,
to live the way I decide.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 9:23 PM UTC
The white light
no longer burns brightly;
its adoring heat subsiding with
the evening breeze.
Tales whispered beneath
the setting sun;
sentiments basking in deja vu.
The stars revealing truths
we refused to see.
Reflections of eclectic pieces
torn from serenity.
A haunting chill
along these nerves;
the pale sky exposes
misty memories
touching the forgotten horizon.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
Another year is subsiding;
I have lost track of time.
The smell of despair fills the room.
Sleep is nothing but an illusion,
thoughts of "what is" and "what was"
scribbling on the walls.
So many once promised love; there was one
who offered something much deeper.
A beautiful connection,
deeply rooted beneath the surface of affection.
The word "love" was never spoken;
the sentiment felt beyond measure.
It was my situation that opened my eyes
to reality; the fantasy of hope
angered my soul.
It was my hand that closed the shades
removing the light from view; finding
no comfort in the darkness.
Everyday, since that moment, I have
thought about you; the anonymous vocabulary
sent in a bottle, from time to time.
The occasional glance from the shadows,
watching you from the distance; wishing
you could be with me.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 6:51 AM UTC
Summer is slipping toward reminiscence.
Moments no longer held tightly.
The days are nothing but mist upon the glass.
The sunlight no longer burns brightly.
Listening to the tides;
the mounting anguish along the shore.
Limitations brought about frustrations;
silently waiting for the knock upon the door.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:03 PM UTC
I saw her face again, under a
different circumstance; memories
still lingering within the fragrance.
What we had was but a diversion;
the acquaintance of familiarity
at a fork in the road.
Our attraction was the means
for her mental distraction from
the cuts and abrasions inflicted
by so much broken glass.
The ***** of affection; skin
bleeding from the vulnerability.
My heart believed what
her words conceived.
The autumn breeze became
a deep winter freeze; waiting
for the spring thaw, in silence.
Our connection severed by expectations
the distance to great to overcome.
She turned the other way,
someone new caught her eyes.
Love was the guarantee;
the promise of our demise.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
He stared into the eyes of Persephone
Mesmerized by the reflections concealing
A broken spirit; those beautiful
Blue eyes drawing in his
Struggling soul.
Doubt polluting clean air;
His instinct deceived by
Her notions of favor.
Intimacy shared within their
Conversational delight exposing
His veins, sliced by her
Blades of desire.
She was unresponsive,
Numb to his plasma discharge;
Darkness chased away the light
Night consumed his day.
So much calamity beneath
The surface of serenity.
Absence of closure; misinterpreted
Memory lapses. Broken beginnings
irreparable; shattered petitions
Severing their nerves.
Scent of pain and sorrow
On the sheets; raindrops
Collecting on the glass.
Inhibitions washed away
By drizzling expectations.
He wants to send her a rose,
A small token of hope
In the midst of demons.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC
The love ink has for paper
seeking that perfect union
like a couple united in matrimony.
The desire paper has for ink
wanting to feel its flow
gliding the curves along its surface.
Ink touches paper
a sensual path of expression
fulfilling a dream.
The virginity of the paper
surrenders unconditionally
to the ink's fullness.
Giving birth
to written words
for the world to see.
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 7:23 PM UTC
It feels like I died long ago;
Waking to an unwanted revival.
Drenched from a flaming baptism,
Soaked in anguish.
Observing opportunities masquerading as
Angelic delights; the brood
Masking deception with discretion.
My spirit feels the curse rising from the ground;
My body collapses beneath the heavy rain.
Those desires to change the world
Deemed a misdemeanor; my sweet dreams
Cast upon the smoldering coals,
A wasted sacrifice of embers,
Ashes, and vapors.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 12:52 PM UTC
Standing along the seashore
holding an urn containing
the ashes of mistakes and regret.
The foamy water crests
beneath my feet as I say farewell
to these cremated memoirs.
Pouring their ashes
into the wind to drift
along the seas.
Making a vow
never to return
this place again.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC