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Rowan S Apr 2019
The wind that shakes
the willow tree
That slowly bends
the rods and reeds
My iron bones
and sulphured soul
The roots grow fast and deep

I twist, I give
I stretch and flex
The bark, it groans
from sweet duress
I crave your touch
your whispers' true
Oh blow now, through my leaves
Rowan S Apr 2019
You end the static
Quiet all the noise inside
My head, now at peace
Rowan S Apr 2019
while I shove sleep
      to the dark corner
i slip more
hard caffeine
through my blooded canals
and ponder


the cotton cloth'd
and pastel'd world
now opens up
before me
sleep deprivation and a new relationship make for strange bedfellows
Rowan S Apr 2019
I have ignored the warning signs
teetering, all a' kilter
upon this precipice

to breathe, hard air
a gasp, of frigid life
tip into another one
trip into oblivion

my mornings are strains of
ichor from within
ochored bile an offering
to a porcelain god

an illness slinks
through these

sandpaper stress
scrubs my marrow clean
to bleached
Rowan S Mar 2019
Now, I always wait
For the other shoe to drop
Good things aren't for me

But I fight these thoughts
Incumbent storyteller
Perhaps, he is wrong
Rowan S Mar 2019
color splashed upon living canvas
a *******'d dalmation
rippling stories speak on
Rowan S Mar 2019
I am a living memory of you

For as a sculptor
Slow and methodic with the clay
You have shaped and molded
My very being
And all can see
Your impassioned mark on me
A testament to kindness
Tried, and true
Pulled from something a recently wrote (and posted). Sometimes the pieces are better than the whole.
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