Poem – To One I Admire

To One I Admire

Secretive and humble, a monument
Whose name is torn into cellular winds,
The cycle of birth, death and renewal
You are its most precious fragment,
A ruby glimmer in a globe of your own

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Amazon | Bookstore | Goodreads
Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Advertisements

Poem – “Botched Up”

Botched Up

It’s easy to claim you wouldn’t love one
Who martyred everything that they were,
Botched up inside and out, but at the core
They suffered it all for your own heart
Doesn’t that reclaim the beauty on its own?

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Amazon | Bookstore | Goodreads
Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Poem – “Betrayer”

Betrayer

Flighty and indefinite,
You expect the souls of others
To be handed over automatically
On a whim, then you abandon
What little that they meant to you
Flaky and undisciplined,
You can change your mind
But you can’t reconstruct another
Not that you’d stay long enough
To amount to much more than betrayer

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Bookstore on Amazon.
View my Bookshelf.

Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Poem – “A Nameless Brand of Heartache”

A Nameless Brand of Heartache

A nameless brand of heartache,
One too priceless, too excrutiating
To embody with one’s own love
It’s every sin, every redemption
Every virtue altogether in cacophony,
No harmony nor pleasure at all

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Bookstore on Amazon.

Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Poem – “Closed Hearted”

Closed Hearted

Why do you always expect difference
You know I’ve been closed hearted
So long the doors have melded to one
There is no way to release what I’ve lost
I don’t know why you ask every day
When you know to change is impossible

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Bookstore on Amazon.

Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Poem – “Emerald”

Emerald

I will always dream about you
Gilded, shining beyond my reach
A human embodiment of the moon
Eclipsing the sun and his joys
Infusing eyes with the emerald of envy

I can’t say you’re heroic
I can’t even say you mean well
So fearsome I can’t stop your image
A jewel set permanently in my dreams

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Bookstore on Amazon.

Support my work on Ko-Fi.

Poem – “Ebony Sun, Bones of Willow”

Ebony Sun, Bones of Willow

In her slumber
She carries the cradle of the sun
The weeping goblin atop the peaks
Laced in snow like the spider
Weaves a film across forgotten toys
His horizon bears the ghost of a smile
An ephemeral face rich as the soil
That mothered the gods’ orchard
Bones of willow tortured by the wind,
He waits and she never wakes
Believing he has lost her, simple goblin
Unravels his tattered body
And becomes an island on his mountain
Where flowers will never flourish

Copyright ©2019 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Get my newest book on Amazon

Poem – “White Ink”

White Ink

White ink spells secret phrases
Unhealthy thoughts that are true
But should never be said,
Not even on the privacy of paper
The vicious things, visceral wants
Nothing you could tell your lover, even
All is bound in the bleach of white ink

Copyright ©2018 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Get my newest book on Amazon.

Poems – “The Devil’s Laughter” / “Yearn”

I had nearly finished a delicious in-depth article dissecting themes of cannibalism in fiction and why it disturbs people, that was scheduled for today. Apparently it got eaten. So here are some poems instead.

The Devil’s Laughter

The mad boar usurps the knife
Methane and dried blood compose the earth
Hot, weary, malignant dreams of falling

Falling through flame, falling from grace
Blood pulses in the forest’s untapped vein
Whose is it? The torturer’s or the tortured?

The butterfly of two larvae, one ideology
Rapier sinks into skin, but further into psyche
Primal shriek becomes the devil’s laughter

Yearn

Always the same red, blue, black face
I recognize you even under your mirror
Indescribable envy of a lover lost,
I can sense where he lingers in your eye

You blessed your love with bony knuckles,
Traded it for a monster to kiss your feet

How disheartening it is for you to fake tears
When you held paradise and crushed it

©S. M. Shuford 2018
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Add my upcoming collection on Goodreads.

Poem – “Bravado”

Bravado

You’re a wandering ghoul
Restless but chained with damages
You’re really something beautiful, stranger
Even if only a moonchild thinks so, it’s true
If you don’t believe me…
Siphon out that last bit of careless bravado
Syringe it free from your veins and take a look
See what held you back in the mirror

©S. M. Shuford 2018
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Add my upcoming collection on Goodreads.

Poem – “Undreamt”

Undreamt

Love is evil as love is kind
Love is an incomplete tattoo,
A dragon across the spine missing scales,
Missing colour in its tail
Always in love, something unfinished,
Unspoken, unwanted, undreamt
A little whispering skull between two lovers’ ears
Telling them secret lies they don’t want to hear
Love is dishonest as love is true

©S. M. Shuford 2018
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Add my upcoming collection on Goodreads.

Poem – “Forsaken Touch”

Forsaken Touch

Something the god of swamps would abandon,
I love him not, nor the sound of his touch
Harsh like a weathered tongue against asphalt
Sharp as sunburn, jagged as the moon’s flesh
Something the monsters in dreams couldn’t bear
I want him not, nor the touch of his voice
A violation of all sound that dead musicians weep
Rotten as mildew on a nameless grave,
Something the forsaken and evil would hide from

©S. M. Shuford 2018
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.
Add my upcoming collection on Goodreads.

Poem – “Vanilla – Frozen Sugar”

Vanilla – Frozen Sugar

Virgin love for a green-eyed waverer
Alone in the world beneath the stairs
Never a heart beats there, never it dies
In the tender sweetness of after-dreams
Lying in the abyss, I hear his silence
Listen to the sleep of the never-born
Always my love is a stranger to me

© 2018 S. M. Shuford
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.

Poem – “Extremist”

Extremist

Collapsing on burnt field between outrage and blood
Who is the just and who is the extremist anymore?
Two faces of hate that look the same in the dark
Erect a tower of bodies that rises like Babel
A wrath misguided, fueled by self-destruction
Perhaps when I wake the field will bear flowers again

©S. M. Shuford 2018
Follow my poetry on Tumblr.