Lyrical Lament: A Poetry Blog

For me, it is the minor key perhaps solitary cello, hollowed by grief an oboe’s piercing candor, sorrow’s thief echoing my heart’s...

At its essence all death is as raw and fragile tragic as this one: the infant chick, a golden cream yellow few days hatched fresh from...

For my sigh of exasperation for the harshness of my glance the raised and rigid voice end-of-evening, red-wine-fueled impatience for the...

Like watching a car crash steel crushing steel, shrieking metal some freak tragedy a tornado— its wailing cylinder of madness scorches...

It’s the honeysuckle’s last days when her gaping white mouth fades yellow and brown and her lewd pungency sharpens like a perfumed widow...

In youth when the sickness took hold of me it flattened my soul drained my bones pulverized them to grey dust gnawed my heart with its...

The three that have followed me all my life— love that haunts me fear that stalks me and shame— shame that sits waiting brooding in the...

“The seed of generation, driven to perfect itself, driving deep into the woman’s body, driving to bring the future into being.” - J.M....

Today I feel generic, replaceable as Tupperware. My lofty ideals, values altruism have given way to a reality of windowless office...

For decades we lived in your world slight, timid creatures scampering about your roots darting up and down your trunk hopping skittishly...

Our love seems to live outside us beyond us it lives freely in the world amassing in cloud in that cinereal terrain of temper and terror...

Ephemeral as a dream wildflowers braided in wisps of hair like tenderness and jealousy, intertwining queen anne’s lace capricious...

The poignant sky weeps with me today in solidarity my fluorescent-lighted sorrow staggers through forests of bones of my jagged mind ...

front door asphalt ice shoe bounce puff coat tree trunk pencil sketch bleeding sky ...

I. We either drown or burn sinking into brackish depths overwhelmed with watery sorrow gasping, immobilized choking on the sea’s...

A child asked Walt Whitman, what is the grass? Mine asks me, what is death? An abyss stretches out— cavernous, a barren blankness. What...

City of hot hibiscus of dark magnolia, secretive stiff and glossy-leaved she offers her sleek ivory chalices of nectar, of sweet ambrosia...

After those many minutes, jewels—miniscule, precious— voices intertwining, undulating, threading together, joining in a single strand,...

The day begins as such: suddenly awake, 3 a.m., the febrile hour, blank bedroom, an open window, black, indigo velvet blue humid iris...

“Youth gone and beauty, what remains of bliss? …The longing of a heart pent up forlorn, A silent heart whose silence loves and longs; The...