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The smell was sweet
when you dropped

the hammer on that roll
of red ribbon

making the gunpowder
puff

and it almost smelled like success
when you watched

your imaginary foe
grab his chest

and fold over
that hitching post

Whit Howland © 2020
An original
"The thing about sht, is it rolls down hill"
My grandfather told me that.
He was a chemist.
"I know about some sht," he said.

"You get sht on by the people above you,
and you sht on the people below."

"Some may let sht slide,
some can't let sht go."

But you never sht on someone beside you.
That's how you make sht work.
I don't really know how to tag this, because I'm not even sure who would be interested in searching for it. Please consider sharing my sh_t on these fine interwebs.
Music might be
poetry,
sung in grief,
in joy,
in sonorous voices.
With high pitches,
and tones.
Leaping much too deep.
A loud and clear,
periodically wordless tone.
A music piece
might be a love note,
with pure emotions
running deep.

A piercing of life's purity.
Of trust's transformation
into pitiful betrayal.

Dirge's death tune.
An ode, a praise song.
An elegy,
with instruments finely shaped.
The result of an innovative
craftsman's energy.
Music could anything we term it to be. Sometimes poetry is my music. What is yours?
It is so strange
to see someone else
reliving one of your past lives,
spitting out the same words
you once spoke.
 May 23 Dark Poet
manas
What colour is sky?
The sky is blue.
The colour of morning,
and its delightful hue.
Fantastic forests with delightful due-
add a jewel to this cronet of hue.

What colour is sky?
The sky is pink.
The colour of twilight,
and its alluring wink.
A tinge of joy hides in the skies-
like dreams living in a maiden's Eyes.


What colour is sky?
The sky is dark.
The colour of night,
and moon's cry of lark.
Here lurk secrets never said or told,
and persist emotions, eternally unconsoled.
What color is your sky......let me know
Mothers come gently to our rooms, the sunset kiss on the forehead,
Woven homilies from their baskets of forgiveness and spools of yarn.

But for the grave, this heart its coiled sunset unspools, so long entwined
In woods and seas that redden now into the soul of all sunsets combined.
 May 23 Dark Poet
Adrian
There’s always someone
Who you’ll be able
To make smile.

So if you won’t believe in yourself,
Then believe in the me
That believes in you,
And your dreams can come true.
1,000pts for whoever knows where the line “believe in the me that believes in you” comes from. Comment if you think you know it.

Also this isn’t a love poem.
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
There it lays,
my tear soaked
pillow case.

In clouds unseen
where they visit me
every night since thirteen

What am I to do
with no avenue to pursue
when they deny my inhibitions
and tell them they're forgiven?

I see what I can't change and
I can't change what I see

I want to want their vision
of tender, loving, harmony
but it feels like swallowing poison
treating my actions remorsefully.

I take each day
one at a time
unyielding to divulge
what comes to me as I lay
every night
on my tear soaked pillow case.
 May 23 Dark Poet
Color
i have not fallen in love
i have not held a hand

i have not broken a heart
i have not felt that pain

i have not walked the aisle
i have not said my vows

i have not healed my wounds
i have not become whole

i have not felt that joy
i have not traveled the world

i have not given you flowers
i have not asked you to be mine

i have not driven a car
i have not lived alone

i have not calmed my breaths
i have not slowed my heart

i am not done
i have not finished here.
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