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Sunset streams run dry
Chai tea steams from mug with scent
Cursor blinks blinks blinks

Henry C.

My sole has a hole
Dry feet once safe war with wet
Heaven weeps warm mist

Henry C.

Green eyes spy seas whipped white capped waves
Gray clouds reach down with swirling arms
Gold ring fits tight on finger brave
Gamboge torn sails embrace my grave

Henry C.

Henry, that was great! I've read very few 'suspense' poems, but this one had me going .... will he take the pills ? I think there is medicine for that going problem :lol: Especially when you read bad poetry. I cannot write rhymed, metered poetry. So to avoid giving you the "going"s again,...

This might not be very suspenseful, but with me you never know. I heard a voice say, “Cry.” And asked, “Why don’t I care?” My room was collecting darkness I felt a presence there. “Forget the granite graves, dear son Leave off your jacket black I have a little light for you Stand up and take it back...

I wonder Will wrestling with wishing Wash away my Faith? “Dad, does wishing have anything to do with faithing? Okay.” I no longer wonder If wrestling with wishing Is wrought with wrongs Because Faithing has no wishing And wishing takes too long. “Hey Dad, what do I do when I blow out my birthday ca...

Why would I use two words that almost rhyme? Because I want the reader out of the box, on guard, so to speak, on their mental toes, ready for what comes next instead of expecting it. In rhymes, sometimes, you can almost write the next line before you read it. In slant rhyme, it slows the reader down...

Not what you are looking for, I am sure, but it does slant.

Protrusions
Produce ugly songs
Sung while stinging bees search
Outside hanging hives from rural eaves
For love lost during stormy nights of untimely woe
While the quiet Queen dies, draped in honey, praying alone

-Henry C

This is weak, I know, but it might have a little atmosphere. Lake Michigan is angry. She hurls snow capped waves at the ice coated boulders on my beach. Her howling protest screams, “I hate winter.” Squalls of temper tantrums try to shake free from the shackles of her frigid tormentor. I live in the...