#devouring
I look back
Into the room of black
Leaving it all behind
Out of sight, out of mind
Yet it follows me
Darkness is all I see
Follow the light
Continue the fight
Fading like my hope
The light helps me cope
But gone it will soon be
I will see
Only darkness around
So profound
Running to it
I'll never fit
I did not
Guess I'll sit here and rot
Nov 10, 2020
Nov 10, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
hold my hand
hold it tight
don't let go
and let's watch
as the sun swallows the earth.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 9:34 AM UTC
rainy day
like today
is a perfect way
for us to lay
underneath the covers
devouring each other
in every which way
until the next day
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 12:35 PM UTC
As if directed by dark unseen forces
spreading from an acrid domain
flames ignited consuming everything
flames ignited consuming everything
once arid forests and homes
swiftly succumbed to the raging fires
rising into black smoke spires!
Devouring all living matter in its wake
nothing sacred with such heat
those grasslands now totally destroyed
nothing left but smoldering ashes
in communities no matter their prestige
as each became under siege!
Ferocious and hungry any daylight masked
their lungs gasping to breath
trapped as they perilously tried to escape
the routes to safety fading
facing ahead death anguish and disbelief
victims united by loss and grief!
From the ashes soon comes another dawn!
#TheFoureyedPoet.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
I try to sit down and write something fantastic and elegant
But then I feel my stomach rumbiling
No matter what time in day it is
I'm always hungry where I want to devour everything that's food in sight.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
A lonesome quiet autumn night
With my twitching, pouring sight
Some just might, hold one tight
As lonesome as this quiet autumn night
With self-devouring, melancholy
I as many, you as few
We'll be alright in this chilly, jolly
quiet, moony midnight dew
Oct 13, 2015
Oct 13, 2015 at 11:23 AM UTC
(In a letter to his wife, Wallace Stevens, confided that writing was "absurd" as well as fulfilling. What of reading the write?)
What makes you read on? Exquisite words? Or
Exquisite thoughts? Ah, exquisite words forming
Exquisite thoughts. At times so beauteous as to be
Painful! Meter clipping along, tremulous tones trilling,
Making the reader thrill in the "Ah, yes!" moment.
Writing poetry is absurd, if you think about it.
An absurdity bore of necessity.
The reading, a veracious devouring
Of sustenance. The substance of souls poured out.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC