The Champion

Throwing Lines Away

 And I wonder

if mother of poetic

speaking,

takes account of

my wasted paper marks.

All pen motions made

at solid grip that

let loose of her creation.

Those days I was

a mere student,

at command of the

dull grey haired teacher.

Letting this writing implement

bleed upon one paged essays,

over being a tool for

assistance in talented

literature.

Could this be why

she curses the writer's

race with abandonment of

new works?

Her form of aggression

delivered as a punishment

for our written errors.

Oh how I wonder

if she can read my remorse.

Sleeping With A Poet

One talented with

words of poetic

essence,

rest upon vacant

notebooks of blank

composition.

They lay among

the pages,

covered under

that smooth texture

color coded with bright

white.

During the lonely

but peaceful nights,

ideas of creative works

trespass into their

scenic dreams.

Tossing and turning,

wrinkling the bedsheet

of paper.

They're tangled

between lines,

filled with

wholehearted expression.
 

Beauty and Me

"Beauty is felt,

not seen"

I have indeed

shunned my allurement,

from these eyes.

To its touch I am

nothing but paralyzed.

The Champion

A player of excellence,

embraces his flaws

within game.

Studies the opponent,

like a schooler

to puzzled exams.

Dedicates his soul

for victory,

putting locks

on superiority.

The rightful victor,

is an achiever of

a master's clarity.

Although challengers

may cower into a

fleet.

The champion will

always begin his

reign,

after upholding defeat.
 

Refuge Of Shyness

She doesn't know

how much it hurts,

to shelter in my

cowardice.

Or even imagine

the paranoia,

that threatens

my every advancement

towards her company.

A fanatic romantic

i'll cease to be.

Bravery,

shaded to grey

remaining confiscated.

Untouchable goes

her adornment,

as air in the atmosphere.

I act as an unappealing

roach.

Her virtue is a bright

light,

that moves me into

fear.
 

Descriptive Stanzas

I am a son

who witnessed

the woman of strength,

carry life's load on her own.

That same kid who

refused to remain in a

shallow shell.

To the unknown,

quiet as rodents

traveling.

Humorous as comedian

stand ups,

to ones called friends.

Outgoing like

NASA tests

headed towards

boundless space.

Excelling in length,

like I was born to

scrape the skies

with my fingertips.

Spiritually enlightened

by God's written text,

deep thinker of much

not a fan of the complex.

Blessing paper with a

poetic touch by help

of the pen,

beholder of boldness.

All for much time I have

been.

Often my thought's

drown in worry,

but I gain the upper

hand as if I am without

the limb.

I...