I am a writer. Therefore, I am not sane. -Edgar Allan Poe
With the tears of joy
Her eyes sting pleasantly
Overwhelmed by
The birth of a child
A beautiful poem
A great work of art
People loving one another
With tears of pain
Her eyes burn in anguish
Overcome with sadness
The death of children
The hate in the world
Cities burning to the ground
Aspirations fading
With tears of hope
Her eyes embrace the pain
Trusting the world will recover
And love will flourish
BW©
A venal child
Learns this
They are not born
Hateful & cruel
Thrust into a world
Where venality reigns
Free and unchecked
Their innocence
Provides for color blindness
Until they are taught
To despise
What is different
From them
Hate breeding hate
BW©
In between
Me
Black
All colors into one
Flat
Not living
Not dead
The dying
Unable to die
Numbness
Apathy
Questioning
Why
Questioning
Which way
Up or Down
BW ©
Invading my dreams I question all In dreams occupied A chase ensues Needing to be near him To feel his arms Embrace me His lips Just one kiss A kiss never collected Past and present collide I cannot reach you Please leave my dreams Do not torture My fragile heart Evacuate my mind No longer disrupt my dreams I can no longer endure -BW ©
B.A. Wilcox © 