Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 21:45:46
poems, poetry, Sigil
Hand in Hand
Time the Maestro
Moments the band
Endless beat
Eyes do meet
Eternity declared
True love shared
by Sigil
Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 21:01:59
poems, poetry, Sigil
she yells
lustful eyes
focus
on her
body
its legs
open
like my book
I pretend
to read as
I too stare
at that body
with its soft
supple skin
by Sigil
Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 20:49:19
poems, poetry, Sigil
(It ends
Without fanfare)
years spent
engaged
in shit
up to my waist
my breath
a waste
my movement
a measured haste
hope contrived,
conditioned and
completed on
wishes made
on painted stars
stillness calls
the epitaph recalls
my measured movement
requires tears from all
by Sigil
Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 20:44:10
Abuse, poems, poetry, Sigil
(Face to Face
Forced to read graffiti)
On fair skin
bathed in water
beaten waterless
she struggles
to slow her breathing
the holding of mine
naked guilt,
abuse hidden
by the “bugbear” man
by Sigil
Wednesday, 16. May 2007, 20:33:45
poems, poetry, Sigil
Acquiesce
The politeness of you occurs in memory
Yet, my heart staggers back from words unkind
I must protest the slander you force me to digest
Gross the taste; hunger it does not sate; our end I foretaste
My love for you kin to providence, hence I treat it kind,
I concede to your claims of my selfishness and greed.
I accede to assertions of my selfishness and greed
The Fragility of your psyche occurs in memory
My love and pain kindred, hence I treat you kind
My mind keeps records of all words unkind
I try to rectify us with haste; our end I foretaste
In the mind fresh thoughts manifest then slowly wait to digest
I implore you our love reinvest; your retort I wait to digest.
Tuesday, 8. May 2007, 23:26:39
rain, poems, poetry, Sigil
The came slowly at first
The Drops
I heard no THUNDER (just)
The Drops
They came slowly a second time
The Drops
I felt no wonder (just)
The Drops
by Sigil
Tuesday, 8. May 2007, 23:24:07
poems, poetry, Sigil
my movement
a pendulum
on a old grandfather
clock
the introduction
of furiously filled
forms nurtured
by hate
whose roots
run deep
like this old oak
that I swing from
by my neck
in a
southern
breeze
