Author: tylerstroz
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When Inspiration Comes and Where It Goes
What to do, with the worried and wandering mind? In the sanctum of songful chants and a choir hymn, What to do, with this indifferent world and its contemplative kind? And Fate, driven by its unexhaustive pledge, to cherish the Lost as our thoughts become torn life and limb. Whereby the stains of a page…
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Duty
Silence—the fabled man of fear. Experienced is the solider known simply as Zero. Around the fire, lies the defiant camper. Of these wars, the poet who just wants to be a buccaneer. Ferocious is the Cajun, through battle he remains a hero. Together with our will and our taunting banter, Hence we respond to the…
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The Traveler
The wind whispers in my ear, As I trudge through the sand in fear, I grasp my walking stick tight, As I go step-by-step toward the light. My sandals full of sand and dust, I keep going until dusk, I construct a fire knowing I must keep going across this endless trap. With the fire…
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Wind-strum
The bell-tower strikes four as evening falls on the eve of July. Yet, not a soul seen, not a footstep heard. Standing among the church yard, a distant bark of a resident’s hound, and an echo of two crows, The calm before the storm. Dark and sinister clouds roll in from the east. A bolt…
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The Route to Winchester
Across the grassy glazed hills, Through the rigid plains, Along the road-side creeks, And through the thick forestry. The Route to Winchester looms, Nestled among the twisted lands, Running along the tamed fields, Past the winding tracks, And over the Opequon on the old stone bridge. The Route to Winchester is a path overlooked, But…
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Things of the Night
Wind-strum Gail across willowed auburn, beneath the nightly hour. Waking fantasies of touchstone lantern-light, Longing books of imaginative power Dancing shadows on this hallowed night. Angry Autumn skies glowering down upon hilltop sanctuary Lurking wonders beyond hives of desolate things. Anxious screams of moments remembered; Slumber’s adversary. Captain haunt and mourning dreams. Ink’s scribble and…
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The Statue Lost to Fiction
Take from the Crimson-hallow blue, Take from the woodland wicket hatch, And read from the Sonnet of Woeful Rue. Read from the Statue Perdita, beckoned and scratch: Stoic and silent in the hazy lamplight marsh. Twas twice forgotten, through whistle and storm And the winds sweep through the wetlands surrounding – dry and harsh. The…
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Sir Vanish’s Portrait Above the Mantle
Above the mantle, in the silent study of the late Sir Patrick Vanish, sits a portrait. Not a valuable antique, in contrast to the other priceless artifacts held in Sir Patrick’s collection Just a simple oil painting, crafted by a dear friend’s memory. Its frame a monument of a golden era Sits unassumingly so over…
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Four Sentences
Like a steady clock, life and the world lean repetitively toward normality. Daybreak inspires indolence and twilight brings about a drowning nighttime dull. Society is a mere formality A means to an end and an end to life’s lull. Life is cold and Beige or Brown Life is misery and diversion is unfathomable. What of…
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A Century In-between
I look through life with a periscope. The mirrors sullied and scraped. I see the walls of my castle allotrope. And the portraits my imagination never escaped. I look out the window to the warm lamplight. And ponder where it went? The desk sprawls like a poet’s plight. It smiles with a wink in discontent.…
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