but aren't they all random?



A Pocketful of Poesy was a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog* up until the great derail of 2013. The impossibly-high standard of quality proved impractical to keep up, without a book deal. But don't take my word for it: click RANDOM and judge for yourself! And feel free to offer your critique.
*based on poem rate for calendar years 2009-2012. Also, kidding about the book deal.

Friday, December 26, 2014

beyond burned

A heart is a mountain made out of wood,

With roots that stretch
to the depths of the earth.

And we hate and we fear
that we'll ever get burned,

As our heart stands,
 inflammable,
waiting its turn. Waiting its test,

 as an infinite fuel
awaits its birth. 


It will burn forever and never run out.


The thing in my nature that makes me your man,
and leaves me no doubt,
is every and all of the things

That I am.

and it will not learn

nature dies.,
But it will not learn.

beyond burned

A heart is a mountain made out of wood,
With roots that stretch
to the depths of the earth.

And we hate and we fear
that we'll ever get burned,
As our heart stands,
 inflammable,

waiting its turn. As an infinite fuel
awaits its birth.

Thursday, December 25, 2014

Wander

Planets will shine with a steady light, too much in the sun

 to see anything any less bright. Stars
Twinkle and wink at us, because they know the universe

 is not empty. 
As dawn comes on, Venus 

 is shorn of all her symbolism, as sure as this

Is Christmas morn. And it is cold. But I at least am warm

 for this time of year, and dressed to be born. Is there anything left
to cross such vast gaps?

In a world made new each year, where
 that star you see twinkle so merrily, so easily
May have died,  ages ago and you too

 will die, having hung your most desperate wish upon it.