Tag: poetry
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Peter Goes Too
Remember when Wendy went, like a dream so long ago. The pain sat too long, pooled in mud rot with mulch and leaves. I had to figure it out before I let the keyboard go. And then I let her go through the click and clack of keys, those metaphors they journeyed to Neverland. The…
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Nights Like These
It’s days like these where there is too much time in the air, slowly unwinding and peeling back. In that sliver of moment that drags on, my memories spread like a freshly ironed shirt. The creases straightened flat, the valleys and days lay bear for my eyes to see. Seeing, my mind falls back to…
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Cycle
I ride my bicycle down the concrete boulevard. Another full moon kisses the darkened heavens and I find a passenger to spend with me the night. Those first few hours, they always boom with a spark. Like a fully charged phone, the screen is always so bright when fresh light catches our gaze. I throw…
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Flight
This year I took flight. Restrictions lifted, and then fell the social barricades. Soul and body traversed, both by road and astral plane, to those novel places that I once only imagined in my head. With happy thoughts, I held nothing back, and dove head first into a world, once pitch black. But light imbued,…
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Some Pixie Dust
There she is again, a person there but something more. Even unadorned, she strikes a chord, it almost feels like home. It’s hard to look away! I thought my feelings died some yesterday, But today, a feeling rises like them tides in that crystal bay. I remember being on that pirate ship, a hook in…
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Sinewy Threads
I find myself alone again. There in my thoughts, it’s a familiar friend. Where I isolate towards that forlorn state, Aloof my soul, how I ruminate! In spite of those eyes that look me deep, And sweet words that she softly speaks. My heart turns to this other place, Where thoughts meet keys in this…
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Warmth!
Warmth! That’s how your presence felt, like fresh sunlight. And what skies I thought I seen, what clouds. Even the breeze had something to say. Those were the days of Wendy! Each step certain, like Jesus walking on water. And conviction blossomed like those flowers blooming in Anza Borrego fields. When food carts paraded down…
Writings by Samson Mousa 