My Blog
The Color of my Sorrow
Sapphire intense,
royal beautiful.
Not like tears,
that prism in rainbows,
blue, but not blue.
Sorrow, not the color
of sky, clear water,
falling on shoulder comfort.
I want something ugly,
clashing hue, violent
bright hatred, the color
of long past ended, dry
heat dead, cooked on
droughted earth.
I want an impossible rhyme,
a feeling all it's own,
that none will compare
because it's simply mine.
I want it orange.
Murmurs
Lost in a blue white sky,
the air reverberates,
I sense currents drawn from clouds,
Dark speck on the horizon
joined in marriage, polygamy
of images, the picture fills.
I whisper softly, twice awed,
the flutter of a million wings,
a murmuration of starlings.
The Hell We Make
Open the door to our minds
the cellar steps await
and someone says
"Don't go there!"
But stage
directions
must be
met.
Bosch is left far behind in
miasmas of imagination,
our eggs more fertile,
our taut faces more
than hellacious,
screaming
ecstacy.
We writhe with the demons, lie
amongst the wriggling worms,
wanton in our misery,
​the damning curse of
endless day, light
rises with its
flames
Begetting Sons and Daughters
Satan comes, claims his kin.
Their is no sufferage
in his majesty,
simply
sin.
We are his able, willing minions,
the wayward army of the
mind destructive, we
were chosen at the
birth ​of natal
imagining,
already
cursed
and
damned.
Irony (From Nov. 2010)
A famous poetess once said
(at meals of wine and steak)
"I do not write for recompence
I write for writing's sake."
In my forays of dumpster down
for nickel or for dime
I'd write a poem for your trip home....
but only this ONE time.
Je ne Regrett Rein
I have a hungry heart.
Blow dandelion seeds into the air,
like helicopter love that hovers
too near, too close
until the hunger stakes its claim.
Sated, calm and full
the night draws curtains on the sun
and still the light of day accuses,
jealous of the fallacies of darkness.
I cover satisfaction,
make tiny stealth feet of the passion,
raccoon eyes will not show shame,
held high and mighty, x-rays into harpies dried up dreams.
Rose Aiello Morales 2017, having long since spread my seeds
All poems © Rose Aiello Morales 2013
Author-Poetry and Short Stories