Category: Poems
-
A Man of Letters
The candles steep toward their inevitable demise, Under the glowing moon on this crooked, hallowed night. The Study sits dust riddled with a desk covered in papered lies. Blotted by the blood of pens in the shrinking light. In this chair of ivory and gold, By the warm, burning hearth, Surrounded by portraits of vanity…
-
The Four Seas
Through the wicked fogbanks of blooded waters, Through the dread, ships wracked and shredded sails. They lurch forward into the abyss—these mongering marauders. Into a land fraught with dire warnings and haunting wails. Shining with the promise of riches beyond their beliefs, With monsters lurking around the depths, ghoulish warriors, and unearthed bones. This savaged…
-
A Carnival Sideshow
A carnival sideshow, In a dreary backlot, dirty and dim, An eerie aura escapes the sullied tent, a mesmerizing glow. Artifacts and ornaments adorn the rafters, hanging threadbare from the brim, An alter accosted by dreary dreams and fantasies tonight, Cards of black magic and a crystal ball beckon you into inquisition. The infernal device…
-
The Ghost on the Pier
In the Port of Schiper, Across the bay of blue, Where the bell-tower strikes like a melodious piper, Amid the dense fog and the rain dew. Over by the abandoned wharf, Along the crooked, decrepit pier, Lies a myth that time helped morph. A manifest lost to the turbulent sea, where danger falls near, And…
-
The Author of Unwritten Uncertainty
A year retires to the back pages of history, While the world welcomes another and sees what this new year can provide— And already, we surmise this year is brimming with mystery We, the world, settle in for this roller-coaster ride. Much can be said and written about the tea leaves, And how they spell…
-
Heads or Tails
Like a coin, tossed by chance, Two sides form an isochronal picture: The poet in me stares through a porthole out to the greater expanse, The words and the metaphors meld together into an ideal fixture— Of thought on paper, they deplete the remaining remnants of the midnight oil. The storyteller in me struggles with…
-
A Dream From the Night
From the narrow park on whispering high, And the hotel of mannequins across the waystation, Find the key draped away from the dredging skull’s soul. And from the ravines rolls the fog—gray as the autumn sky, Strange may be the mortem host as the earth quakes, and I drift through my unholy creation. I lose…
-
October’s Wait
The forest shudders from the wind of an October night. Through the wicket it blusters on this eerie fogged path The moon beams down through the clouds as the haunts fulfill their delight, Creaks and moans, like whispers across the ear, impose a dreadful wrath. Where the twisted trees lean and the leaves lay Where…
-
Autumnal Gaze
Through September enters the withered howl and curling auburn Wind-strum Summer rays fail to the brisk oncomings of Winter’s white veil; the changing of the guard. A walk—through a suburban street celebrating the aging greens and the reddening fern. Because under warming timber, sparse should be the color green, as the preferences of Autumn’s image…
-
In Memorial
A strange day for a stranger decade. An empty throne in a quiet palace, A kingdom without a queen, And a world without a symbol. Photo by Maxim Hopman on Unsplash
TylerStroz.com 