Tag Archives: rhyming poetry

Metamorphosis Hurts

Cells burning as they change
From one substance to another,
The New reacts as foreigner-strange
While all The Old gets smothered

The pain of the day’s demise
Darkening once before the morn
One black cry as the familiar dies
And the unknown gets reborn.

You Again

So stuck on me
And all I am
Is the static between stations,
White noise vibrations
The matrix between cells,
The void that fell
Between occupied spaces,
Lost and lacking graces,

But for Your face turned to see me.

I make nothing
I offer nothing, I am nothing
But what I’ve always been,
A tiny bundle of blood and sin,
Crying out in the field I’m thrown,
No suckling, no home
Until You cradled me near
You – all I love, and crave, and fear

And betray, and hold dear.

I’m tossed under the night sky
And every burning star
Is a light left on for me,
To guide me home, to see
You still care
Not that I’m impaired,
But that I’m still Yours
You – setting my course

And sustaining the force of my momentum.

The Summer End

I miss the night-summer air
Electric against my skin,
Breathing in, and then exhaled
With no pain in the taking
And mischief in the excess
Making a tapestry of mess
We weathered with our youth
Our bad decisions
Uncouth in our derision
Wild in our eager anticipation
Of whatever lay open
In our next breath.

I miss the world unroofed
And untamed
While I was still unchanged
By creature comforts.

Cold as the Grave

Break, oh endless winter
Flaunting your precipitous splendor
Freezing the skeletal soul of man
Excessively boasting beyond your span
Bringing your brutal fist to ground
So ice and snow and sleet abound
You have tarried too long in this land,
And we are bowed low under your heavy hand
Watching our fleeing breath dissolve
As our prayers, the sticking point of our resolve,
Waiting still, for the thaw to save
While you turn our meadows into graves.


Pain rouses me from slumber,
Keeps me awake to talk,
And I lumber into conversation,
Too tired to politely walk,

And if You want me to hear
I am glad for Your attention,
Only open my ears
If You mean my comprehension

But You alone are wise;
If need be
Open just my eyes.

A Patch Made in Heaven

It’s raining self-despair outside,
And the clatter on my roof
Of water-damaged words
Sings aloud its sharpened proof
Cracks along the heights of me
Allowing rain passage through

It’s dripping all around me,
And the patter of the sound
Reminds me how I leak,
How I’m at risk to drown,
But I know the roof I lost
Can still, again, be found

So I pray He takes His able hands,
And wraps them around my soul,
To protect me from the coming flood,
To plug up all my holes,
As He has done, time and again,
When rain exacts its toll.

The Flash and the Fade

My face is flushed.
I am touched again
By brevity, and the severity
Of overturned nests
And untended graves.

She stands brave,
Shields and flags and
Empty scabbards,
Foils and sharps and
A parry too late.

Each breath a rebellion,
From a bloody womb
Into a bloody world
A white-fisted petal,
A nightingale in a jar.

Siege the inevitable,
Voices only composed
Of exhaled air
Songs diminished,
Replaced, interred.