My rage is a dandelion seed head scattering
to the wind; I can't catch
every piece.

Though, sometimes, one may float
into my palm, and I examine it to find
that the spiky yet soft hairs of the fury white drifter make no sense to me.


© Nathan A. Brock

You will always be the broken

structure where I hide

in my hypocrisy.


Yes, I shall build my crypt

with your stone, and I

will be the mortar;


Stacking you high into the

shadows overhead;


holding you fast where I

deem is your home;


My mortar will hold you!


Indeed, it shall outlast your

stone;


Holding it's vague shape

in chalky, skeletal ruin while

men gaze, not knowing what

that shape could mean.


© Nathan A. Brock

I Know how the moon feels.


Used to reflect the haughty brilliance

of a star too arrogant to close

his eye to the night sky.


Does the sun not see the frozen

tears that stain her face?


I often wish to be cold and empty, too.

To pass- silent and unnoticed through

my own dark expanse.


To keep my thoughts,

my secrets,

my tears behind the black.


Yes! I know how the moon feels.

You were the only one I hated more than myself, yet...

Somehow, that was the best idea of love that I had.

© Nathan A. Brock 2022

How do you hide from the mirror so well?

Your tears are so faint I almost missed them;
I almost missed you!

That fluorescent smile, so wide and so "true".

As though your lips were not curled
around rough cinder chips…

Hide the cuts on your lips
so masterfully, too.

A smile and a laugh.. you dance like a leaf
blown by hot fume and ash…

Your tattered edge hidden from view.

No, I'm not like you.

I dance more like pebbles rolled by the tide..
all scattered, and cracked…

My smile is chipped and askew...

And my laugh is absurd! Halting and gruff..
not lovely like you.

Not chorus triumphant with heaven's imbue.

You're harp strings and viols in rhapsody blue!

And would you believe, I once had the mind
to smite myself coldly and leave me behind
to emulate all that is you?

To laugh and to sing - to dance like a flame - to speak the way only you do?

Yes, I wanted so much to persue!

But, your lips drip with nightshade in honey-sweet dew, so viciously rich!

My ache is entwined in their hue.

No, I could not be quite like you!

The snowdrops are sleeping and the daffodils all spent
you look across the rolling fields amazed at what spring has sent

The wild blue bell a vibrant but such tender a flower
carpets the earth in a haze of blue with all its earthly power
nodding heads on tender stems ever so slightly bent
blows in the breeze so gentle scattering wide its fragrant scent

To lay with blue bells feel the sun and hear the song birds sing
a spell of truth cannot be broken when you wear the fairies ring