Creative Writing
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Darkness lifts as my pen tears, Crying like the fallen dew, The crickets sobbing in my ears, Yet I will soon come back to you. A letter sealed, and hidden here, Behind the shuttle of the loom, Do not unravel, in your drear, Before united with your groom. You’ve lusted so and I have heard,…
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“Books are like imprisoned souls ’till someone takes them down from a shelf and frees them.” —Samuel Butler In prison, eh? Your binds are hard but brittle, Your pages mighty but meek. The only bar to cling to is denial; They pass you by, glance here, glance there, Glad not to be in your shoes,…
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As I passed the main square one morning, on my way to Church and in my finest attire, my eye was caught by a great movement, a rustling of shutters and hanging store signs, as a forceful gust of wind blew down a main street, and, as if by cue, kicked up a great fog…
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Why must all our Potent poets poison Us with symbolism? Must riddles rhyme In perfect time; A quest for perfect hymnbolism? Why must water always mean Immaculate and pure and clean? And why must red Compel us so To hurt and murder, hate a foe? Does green not mean A mélange of the passions Blue…
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You know the man within? The coffin tells no tales nor answers Any questions. I saw him once, his keen eyes staring Upwards; he did not cry but lying there An odd calm had befallen him, As if the Lord Himself Had lifted off the tearing Pain for passage to the heavens; And lying there…
brian mayer 