Demon eyes they stare at me
Deep within my face
Everything I ever win
Is nothing but disgrace
Try as hard as I can
I know its but a case
No matter what occurs
I only lose this race
End it all if I could
But a coward from the base
A single shot, a single pill
My soul it would erase
katyandgeorge from Pixabay
What is so pleasing to the soul as that which is round?
A wheel as it rolls its way on by?
A simple plate as it bears our vitality?
An umbrella as it shields us from the rain?
The effect of a dress as it fans its way out in dance?
A ring primed with promise as it encircles our finger?
A ball as it bounces or a cup that holds within its walls our joy?
Why does the round hold itself so close to our hearts?
Sebastian Kopf from Pixabay
It is by brew alone I set my mind in motion.
It is by the juice of arabica that thoughts acquire speed, the teeth acquire stains. The stains become a warning. It is by brew alone I set my mind in motion.
Couleur from Pixabay
Happiness, fun in the pursuit
Hard to hold within one’s hands
Without, its loss none can refute
Joy, so simple and quick
Living in the shining now
Interrupted by words politic
Excitement, bright and true
Nothing can bring it down
Except every last one of you
Image by Derek Robinson from Pixabay
No reason for it that I can see
Living each day
as I always have
and I always do
and always will
and the day still remains
Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay
Structures, in a way unforeseen
Fog, sensibilities lost and found again
Wonders, do sometimes cease
Image by SplitShire from Pixabay
Colors vibrate the spectrum
causing shifts through the phases
leaving only bright reflections
of intimations in its wake
forging ripples in the grand pond
of the universe whose waves
slap against the shores
of consciousness creating
mandelbrots spiraling forever
outward yet snuggly held within
the golden ratio as it gambols
amongst the magical Circle of Fifths
Image by Hermann Traub from Pixabay
drowsing in fits and bursts
but never more than an hour
eyes open and staring at the fan
slow wind brushing the sheets
vivid dreams spark and die
too many to count in the in-betweens
another sleepless night
Image by StanWilliamsPhoto from Pixabay
Morning light washes over my eyes
Warm, soft and buttery
Quiet in that brief stretch of time
Flashing across the frozen brush
Layering warmth where it lay
Only colder in the shadows and nooks
My heart is warmed while the wind blisters my cheeks
I should’ve worn pants…
Jacques GAIMARD from Pixabay
What cerulean light through yonder window breaks?
For it doth burn mine eyes so true
Have the slumbers of my distracted globe lingered opaque
For the world to colour itself so blue?
While palls of Indigo dim the hearts bitter ache
Ought shadows not illuminate our ravin point of view?
Image by Ein Kaffee kostet mehr als € 0.55! from Pixabay