Dreams of Love

“As she walked to the end of the wooden boards, the stars spoke to her.” Dreams of love were white feathers whisked through the heavens by the wind. Lapping waves were hypnotic as they crawled ashore from the royal-blue sea. The low hum of the ocean was a majestic symphony playing to his queen. She wondered when her love would arrive. She giggled and grinned, thinking of the kiss they shared last summer.

Humming Bees

Balefire leaves drifted from deciduous trees,
silently still, as an azure lake latched to perennial sky,
the rust-colored sunset slowly smothered sound.

Her midnight eyes were buzzing humming bees,
as Arcadian days bled across nebulous pathways,
my languorous core slipped to shadowed caves.

Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

Image Credit: Pixabay (darksouls1)

#WIP

Introspection

I used to feel like I needed to be inebriated
even to whisper your name.
In truth, you broke my spirit,
ripped me at the seams until I unraveled.

Through blackbirds and rain songs,
I stumbled through the night,
howling words like a madman
practicing witchery or voodoo.

She is the Moon

Day by day, night after night,
her words sprint through my veins,
as brontides buzz beneath seismic skin,
breaking through a heart once bruised.

The low hum of her whisper pulls me close,
as I find myself caught in lunar tides,
pulled to secret places; she is the moon.

Summer Swept Blue Eyes

An old poem that I wrote seven+ years ago.  Inspired by a muse long gone and a quote “Beauty is truth, truth beauty,’ – that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” by John Keats. It’s an interesting journey to revisit work from a different period of your life. It’s a reminder that I felt a different inspiration. On the other hand, the writing is immature, cliche, and full of weak words.  I hope you enjoy.  🙂

Words, feelings, memories,
where only love persists — exists —
for summer swept blue eyes.

Above the science,
below technicolored dreams,
where fireflies beat their wings
and light up the night sky.

Sub Rosa

If I could strip off the mask
you might see who I am
and I drift to the sea,
red wire termination
it might make sense…

Savage Imprints

3 A.M. echoes,
memories claw hallways
as phantoms moan,
frayed threads unravel,
bit by bit,
waiting on ghosts.

Night terrors resurface
as a reunion of sunsets
burn behind her shadow,
waiting on the moon,
a rebel magnolia
hidden in full bloom.

Savage imprints,
taunt feverish ideas,
as stars shrink and sigh,
glued to the spider’s web,
bound by burdens,
gnawing on notions
as beasts drink to blame.

Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

Note: I haven’t written for a week and trying to shake off the dust. I’m not overly pleased with this poem, but it’s an abstraction of something bothering me, so figured I’d go ahead and release it. Might edit or destroy later.

Photo by Henk Mul on Unsplash

Midnight Shower

Manic midnight shower. Thoughts of you tear me apart. Time is unkind, like the raging train that rumbled past our place late at night. As fists bang against wet walls, cold water beats, beads against my seasoned skin. I scrub as if it’s possible to wash withdrawal and watch it whirl down the drain. Friends, family, say in time it gets better, but our song spans light years, as penguins mate for forever.

Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

Spiral Webs

Caught in spiral webs
my heart trapped by her surprise
with lips soft as silk

sunrise comes in golden shades
preying upon panting sighs

Copyright © 2018 – Brian Nettles. All Rights Reserved

Tanka (5-7-5-7-7)

Flora’s Blossoms

While reading a recent tweet by Annie Scribes, I felt inspired to write a poem. Below is the quote and my poem.

“When we finally touch the sky, 
what else is there for us, on the horizon?” 
by Annie Scribes

As hushed sighs near Nirvana,
halcyon horizons split a bruised sky,
her words whirl like a maelstrom.

Clear ears, downy winds whisper
as mellifluous meadows beckon.