short poems

Real Monsters

what monsters of my own design
reside within this fractured mind
to feed upon all hopefulness
so that my torn soul acquiesces
to their claws that tear and shred
and jaws of self doubt bleeding red
that no white knight of dreams or thought
can slay the fierce emotions wrought,
by these unseen beasts empowered,
that would all sanity devour.

The Night

a lion’s eye had opened
and gazed within my very heart
hungry for emotions
that my soul imparted
within this dream I made
menageries of terrors wait
from the forest I had laid
their appetites for dreams to sate
a bloodlust of my reveries
did my sleeping soul a fright
and upon my heart’s unease
did they smile lustful delights
thus did my sleeping thoughts then pray
for salvation in the light
of the singing breaking day
to rescue me from beasts of night.

Smiling Stone

On a beach I once had known
she gave to me a smiling stone
of bloody red and palest gold
that an ancient story told
a tale of when there were no seas
no foaming sprays upon the breeze
where only mountains moved and sighed
in epochs drawn before the tides
were rife with small and bristling things
‘fore the silence began to sing
of life that ran, and swam, and flew
before the first trees ever grew
at pace unknown to rocks as these
yet still this slow earth in its ease
makes all this life at end its own
so hence the knowing smiling stone.