A lonely woman was crossing a bridge and there was a slight fog. It was clear from the way she sat that her heart had been broken. And if any one of these three things were never true, I never would have purchased the book upon which she rested, with herself on the cover, broken […]
The post Thérèse | Ricky Garni appeared first on Best Poetry Online.
Go to Source
Author: Best Poetry Online
Mom grab my hand pull me out of the abyss of depression Abyss definition chasm gorge bottomless pit just a few words to describe depression Mom… Mom I miss you you don’t how much I miss the old memories Wanna sit here and look through pictures? Listen to music and talk? Listen to my problems?…
That’s Mel Torme narrating the documentary. Related Stories The Poetics of Distraction [by Jerome Sala] Go to Source Author: The Best American Poetry
He rhapsodizes, besotted by lust She beams, rapt by lyrics and rhymes Of baby, sugar, sweetie and honey Now cascading at your feet, eager to love Then without a fuss, you’ve had your fill Your hunger is quenched before hers stirred If this was church, she only heard grace And it was not even chanted…
My thoughts run. They run to hide in your protective lap, to lie there, to sleep, carelessly. For death can’t reach there, you’ve told me with your reassuring eyes. Your eyes are brown, the shade, I never had courage to stay and stare. They’re bewitching, unnerving, beautiful. I hardened the cyst but the soft core…
Jigsaw puzzles, nothing more– pieces spread out on the table or floor, needing attention, border pieces are easiest to find, to align borders, boundaries, a bit of sky, a few clouds – the tabs, loops, levels, interlocking patterns, doorways, then blurry faces, a flight of stairs going to the edge, off into nothing, nowhere, in…
I’m contemplating the effects of these memories the effects of these sounds and situations forever surrounding me. I’m considering the boundaries and borders encircling my brain, burdens as bombs exploding in the midst of my mind, systems stifling my sanity stealing every semblance of my common senses. I’m sitting in the middle of my own…
