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Alienpoet May 11
Her heart and soul filled with fire
all she yearns for is desire
never caged in a wire
Her wisdom hidden
from prying eyes
The patterns she has given us
a sequence
Her love touches our lives with frequency
yet we haven’t seen her for what she is
her love hisses and fizzes
like a chemical reaction
Yet her divine spark lights the dark in an interaction.
Io Apr 12
figures in the tree line
make me shiver
eyes from the treetops,
faces in the river
silhouettes of men
wallowed in the shallows
leading me to the gallows
whispers from the shadows
The tendency to see meaningful patterns in meaningless information
I see faces and flowers
on loose pages—
it smiles at me from
a crumpled paper, addressed
to the fire, its embers were
keeping it ablaze.

How happy it was to paint the
room blue in the middle of summer,
dancing through the sound of the creaks
under my footsteps— everything is just right.

How treacherous it was, a wistful memory
they were remnants of unsettled stories
and unforgiven departures; I stood
on a shipwreck
where everything is a lost.
the uncertainty would be tall
and I am more will for the fall,
are these things crosses your mind?
I wouldn't bear crossing out your name.

This is how we paint room blue; creeping
on the cracks of the floor, memorizing your
gaits as I follow your traces.
i decided to re-write this one. it was published four years ago, and time really changes my perception to this.
Tøast Jan 1
We sit on the edge of conversation
Hands clasped, feet shuffling anxiously
Eyes darting across the room like
the stars in the night sky
You lean back with a sigh
and I catch you.

Hands together, knees bent
fingers touching skin
Tracing outlines of mountains on the map you offer me
You look up from my gaze and a calmness falls across your face
The corner of our eyes don't wonder but meet
Times entangled in the feast before us
I raise a leg and your knee greets my feet.

Waters greet these feet,
Waters that rage on and under us
Washing over our bodies like the light that’s wrapped itself beside us
Bodies become one in the heat of the den that we've made
In the depts we've paid
The depths we've obeyed
The trust we've displayed

Down by the rivers where the whomping willow weeps,
where the waters run ramped, and the wild things wonder
wonder about life, wonder about death
run through your mind son, be absent, be bold
just don’t forget that the water man reaps
reaps in what is sown, sold and told

whispered. whispered like silence on the edge of the wind
the wind that howls through the corner of beauty
there where it stays and sits for a while,
as the man, he stands, waiting watching on duty.
I look back to you, your face changed by the cut of a smile.

A smile.
That smile, that warms my soul like summer breeze,
Wraps me up and takes me in from the cold
You don't even realise, you do it with such ease
You do it now when we're young and you'll do it when we're old.

We sit, once again, as we used to, but more alone
Hands together, fingers crossed, in utter isolation
It’s such a wild thing, wild life that we’ve known
And none of it is ripe for an explanation.

Feet dancing on the edge of contemplation
This information that we use for the source of our meditation
Imagination sparks conversation but also speculation
So, what are we to do when there’s no confirmation?
A shout shuddering in the darkness of creation
Thinking of the combination, representation and motivation for these words when all I ever wanted was a simple conversation.
Mark Toney Sep 2021
autumn reflections
wrinkled leaves wrinkled faces
mourning dead leaves




Mark Toney © 2021
9/25/2021 - poetry form: Haiku (for you) - Mark Toney © 2021
LC Aug 2021
they quietly loomed over you,
arms interlocked so you never moved.
solemn faces, small, narrowed eyes.
you prepared to meet your demise.

but one day, their hands slightly shook.
that quick movement was all it took.
you pushed past those cold, binding arms,
embraced confidence, far from harm.
Alec Astaire Aug 2021
Yet another attempt to recreate our trio of faces
A red rippled reflection reminds me of the time:
Two hands up
My visage confronts me as
One bitter taste of giving up reaches my lips
So close yet again..
Just one face missing
It’s hard to move on with my story when I spend so much time re-reading our few pages
Brett Jun 2021
Time spent on the faceless. Smooth skin turned abrasive
By the scaled scars, my broken heart has created.
Serrated blades of blame pierce our veins and,
Trickle down pain through broken water mains.

A gluttons dinner bell hangs above the poor’s poisoned well.
Dead men don’t feast. Lead a horse to water and,
Wait for it to drink. Watch the self-defeat. Hand-made desolation by men with no faces.
Puppet string desperation keeps us in our places.
Who is in control.
Andrew Jun 2021
I am trying to learn
how to smile
again:

with a laugh and a
struggle, a thought
and a grin - I will learn
to smile

again
and again
strange days indeed
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