A Once before and yet to be

Words were meaningless then.
Arrows and honey lost in the storm.
Traveling so far, just to find a home.
I gave everything I had away.
With broken bones I crawled.
Like octopi coming out of the sea.
A starfish, growing back.
My world is not littered with diamonds.
Those words, once so meaningless, do not sparkle still.
But they do feather my nest.
A poet, a teller of stories.
Some long, others gone.
But sadly, and shockingly.
My own tale of loss and redemption.
Yet it echoes deeply into my other worlds.
And rings out in a life yet lived.

10/09/202210/09/2022 by Mark Ryan Categories: octopus, stories, timeTags: diamonds, future, hope, loss, octopi, poem, poet, Poetry, redemption, sea, starfish, stories, tales, time 1 Comment

A Halleluiah in the violence

The anger maketh the man.
Bleeding out the words that my head cannot contain.
Pearls for the poets.
Flowers for the loveless.
Laughter for the cynical.
They laugh with me now, the chorus of hyenas.
Eager to strip the soul in such violence.
And as the lion dies inside.
Little birds peck the eyes.
Dropping iron feathers to strip the goodness.
Tearing the history apart.
Like absence encased in an ice cube.
Swilling in the drink you hand me.
They watch every move I make.
Taking me and making me something which I’m not.
A spilt blood lamb.
A blood boiled Allah, fickle and fused.
Living long enough to become your villain.
Broken in bones and shaking to nothing.
Lying in your desert of love.
To be eaten by the angels that circle.
As my ghost escapes through my chest.
Out through your hoops.
Ending in a sigh.

12/09/202112/09/2021 by Mark Ryan Categories: angels, animals, violenceTags: allah, angels, animals, birds, blood, desert, ghost, heyna, hurt, lamb, loveless, poet, villain, violence 6 Comments