joel-frye
My chapbook of poems, "A Small Token Of My Esteem", is available at lulu.com. / / Remember me through poetry; / these words, and those I wrote before. / Remember not the man, for he's / much less, and certainly no more. / ____________________________________ / / ...For a bloodless world / cuts itself a thousand times / and the poet bleeds.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight;
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.
Charming evening's prelude to a night
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl,
jaw agape and panting. Such a sight.
The gentle purring now belies the howl
from shattering release that takes you whole
where passion grinds your voice to feral growl.
Your strong yet silken legs enfold my soul,
as you recover life from petite mort,
from shattering release that takes you whole.
No need to contemplate what's still in store,
I'll hold this waking dream until we sleep
as you recover life from petite mort.
Tomorrow's work and worries all will keep,
I'll hold this waking dream until I sleep.
Naked, moaning softly, bathed in sweat,
a perfect beauty I'll not soon forget.
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 6:26 PM UTC
Some people change their
colors and fall away; a
few are evergreen.
Jul 25, 2020
Jul 25, 2020 at 6:19 PM UTC
The deepest bruises
stay numb for the longest time;
self-preservation.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 1:40 PM UTC
You ever wonder
why (with so many poems)
why we keep writing?
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 12:19 PM UTC
Some people change their
colors and fall away; a
few are evergreen.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
people, stop killing
each other for god's sake; then
we will live in peace
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
the simple knowledge that
you are
will nourish
the stony soul
wherein
my heart
takes tenuous
root
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
He was a simple man of simple words,
or high-school girl with broken heart who thought
they had a message, or a call, or not.
Arriving with a sense of the absurd,
a bittersweet purview on life and love,
together with a gift for nuanced phrase,
appreciating how the language plays
upon the mind and tongue, they rise above
the well-worn similes, the tired cliches
for days, perhaps for weeks. Then comes the time
when human ugliness shows up to flay
the budding poet. The evidence of crimes
committed: smoky circles, nameless gray
reminders of whose gifts they took away.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
fighting a
nascent
lassitude;
words and worlds
are brewing
within.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
in whispered words
you sing along with
the song of my heart
unconcerned with tune
or harmony
a simple chorus
in unison
the reverb swells
as the presence
multiplies
you and i and love;
with Spirit
adding contrabass
more felt than heard
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC