PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I can find death in those moments of deep contentment, of



those tired resentments



wringling around all night long, on the ocean's front hand

slaps



on those brown shorelines made of mother clay, with God's face in the night



the sturm and drang of cold stomach pit moments, of deep contentment, tired emotions



this must be what it feels like to live forever on nothing but a wing and prayer



sometimes I make up plays with me at center stage, rollcall for all I've met



there's no one but me in the audience and the theater is quiet and sad, like it remembers happier times



I am a tree in the middle of a field at dusk and all you can see is my shadow body



sometimes I feel the whole world is whispering it's gonna be okay, but I know it's just me saying this



feeling freer as I grow older, I know this is fool's gold, just getting closer to that amazing ultimate solitude



the past makes me cry for all the missed opportunities, all the people who thought they were happy in those

silly moments of half smiles....where are they now?



Is it still so funny?  Can I laugh in this tragedy?



Can I?