ExpectationMonochromatic sky.Rainy sunbeams.She waits.
Worth itHe melted tragedy into his smile.
The Paintbrush's LamentPainting a still life...My own.
Cycle of Earthian LifeFallen titans feed the growing ones.
Almost a Thousand CranesStopped folding.Wishes are flightless birds.
Faulted LegacyLie to History:Be their victor.
Words of DefeatTold you...I was no hero.
Celestial harmonySweet summer night.Sky's darkening hue.
Where nobody stares...Eyeless realm.Unmasked, defenseless...Yet safe.
Story Time“Tell me a beautiful story.”“You.” © L. L. Kelly 2013
The Heterophobic"I'm not gay," said his boyfriend.
The Birth of a Writer“Mom! I put six words together!”
ForwardShe ran faster with clipped wings.
A light definition of soulSoul's like fire:oxygen-transcended matter.
It's raining democracyWhen bombs fall, flyangels will
His Big BreakAssigned a non-speaking role.I'm speechless.
Black and white There was a man at university, many years ago, who would come outside of the library with a book of poetry. I knew it was poetry because of the way he would pause, as if listening for his name being called, then return to scanning the well-worn pages. I got up the nerve one day to unseat myself from the counter at Starbucks and walk outside to inquire about the nature of his material. "Hello," I said quietly, trying not to disturb him too much. He barely glanced up, however, and continued reading. "Who have you been studying for so long?" This time he did pause, but only long enough to whisper, "Blake." I sat down, intrigued. "The crow wished everything was black," I ventured, waiting for him to respond. He suddenly stood up, and I feared I had offended him. "The Owl," he said, "that everything was white." He walked away, and I turned to find that he had left his Blake collection. I reached for it, and called out, but he did not hear, and it slipped from my grasp. It la
DivorceA pawn. Betwixt N D E I G N Q E N K A
One ShotShooting stars...Load, aim and fire.
ErosionTears erode stony heart, revealing emeralds.
Obituary of a SoliderTrained for years~Worked one day.
My six last words"...I did my best for you..."
Don't Judge a Book By It's Cover...tatteredt o r ndirty....Gentleman at heart.
Airhead (Oxymoron)Empty-headed.But so full of himself.
raineven the bravest bonescannot weather every hurricane alone -and my tired heart is still tryingto beat in placeswhere the world is hushed.I am waitingfor the quiet.
UselessDark whispers invade their minds.Useless.
oh my archimedesthere is a mediterranean maelstrominside of me, and frankly these demented bones,are inventing a thousand ways to drownmy soul inward,the curves of my cartilage are overripe vineyardsfor myriads of apprehensions blossomingage, insipid sand charting the honeysucklingprogression of snapping parabolasthe tempests swat opposing ranks& I am afraid that I have begun to lose myselfbetween the roaring of my ears, torrent in a can, a soulless man - and what is a man without a soul[ I'm lighter than that] these mythical caverns of what once was my daysare condensing into dripping pages,I want the books to etch my ru
Someday, FreedomFirst crack in my glass wall.