A poet finds no joy in errant words,
those misbehaving dogs  
which will not come to heel,
how can they delight us  
they may turn round and bite us

Watching the worms squirm
on the road of no return
last stop compost pile

So what makes the blood red, cynical, he comes from the snow white?
A creature of the night, a digital sprite, a social media knight.
He preaches peace, a paradox it seems, while his feed screams of material dreams.
A modern-day prophet, a guru of the trend, a master of the meme, a friend to the mend.

He yearns for the quiet, a serene escape, from the endless scroll and creating this space.
A philosopher's heart, a comedian's mind, a poet's soul, which truth he'll find.
He seeks solace in the simple things, a cup of tea, a good book, a moment's peace, on a fifteen second thing.
A touch of irony, a dash of wit, a sprinkle of truth, flesh of misfit.

Wildflowers grasped in their hands,
Eyes expectant, waiting still—
Resplendent, she, in pearls and lace,
Crystals veiling iron will.

Upon a stallion, proud she gazed,
The cliffs below—waves, hungry, wild—
A dreamer young, her heart betrayed,
By guilt unpardoned, yet beguiled.

To marry love, the soul must pay,
An execution—hope undone.
Laudanum soothes the troubled night,
But daylight sees what grief has spun.

Rumors drift like soft exhale,
Tinkling laughter—shadows hide.
A sparrow leapt from trembling hands,
Defiant, boundless, unallied.

Death does not part, though life divides—
Choices, wounds that dare reveal.
Do we hurt to feel what’s real,
Or punish what we cannot heal?

Her fingers danced on shadowed skin,
Curtains swayed in darkness shared.
Together sought, together lost,
Unpredictable, love dared.

It is of no consequence, they said,
A black sheep wanders where none see.
Yet whispers linger, soft as waves—
A love alive, though never free.