PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Each passing street light

Is another past memory

In this hot city nite



Its hypnotic addiction

Feeds my weary soul

And my itching eyes roll restless



The music now muffled to my ears

The slow subtle whisper

Breaks past the volume knob

And I am reminded



Times I did feel such agonizing dispair

In my solitude, in my lonliness

Watching soul after soul

Give way to their bloom

As the wind drove their hearts

And carried off their seed



Improvization no longer held creativity

A bleeding heart simply felt so ignorant

And an apathetic soul just wouldn't budge



It all caresses like the thorns of roses

Put me in a field of their beauty

And their thorns are all I shall feel



What a whisper,

How it brings such past as yesterday

I glance for wisdom in my ignorant youth

Yet could not see past any humiliations



What whisper before

I could never silence

Now holds it cruelty

Before a soveriegn truth





I rejoice with gladness

In the peace of the nite

In the life of the day



The joy of my salvation