Photo by Aaron Gilmore on Unsplash

His headstone verses were writ in wine
To draw the eyes unto the fact of death.
Lichen lines love-and-only-love remembers.
All, all, we knew were eyes of deepest blue
This good man’s eyes writ in blood
Mortal love will always end like this. Time
Weathers the stonemason’s art to a flat palimpsest
Of hieroglyphics which resemble…

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POETRY

for the solitary soul

Photo by Freddy Kearney on Unsplash

Your very presence,
changes everything.
Potentials and propensities
merge, mould, into:
he is not a fixture,
he is a fitting
in my world.
She flutters, flings, flummoxes,
acquires the shape of the word.
Eyes sparkle —
as I burn the last volume
of poems.
Eternal signs sigh over the ashes.
Letters tell of nightmares,
stone slabs become monster-statues
created by a disturbed pattern…

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Poetry

Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash

I took ol’ snail upon a trip
Upon the live-long sea
Ol’ snail she is so silent,
More silent, still, than me.

We wander forward on the tides,
And wander back in time,
But all upon a Tuesday-drear
Ol’snail she speaks in rhyme.

With metaphors a-plenty,
Right on the cusp of…

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Poetry

Photo by Cosmin Serban on Unsplash

a fluorescence of luminescence
gathers to a phosphorescence
of thought control
the music
spreads an arpeggio
of discordance
that enters the soul
like the Via Appia or
the old Roman Road

mixes of music,
cascades of sound,
control
the pulse of the shape
the color a plastic fantastic
version of summer…

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Poetry

Photo by Katie Drazdauskaite on Unsplash

open your heart to the misery
of those who live without hope
learn to walk in another’s steps
do not avert your gaze.

give all that you have to give
see with the eyes of a child
learn to not count money,
my friend,
value comes and goes
stay on your toes…

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Poetry

Photo by Nadine Marfurt on Unsplash

hear the mountains spring back into shape
their brown-blue sides winter lingers in crevices
the weaver of water a tinkle of god
fish screech to water.
nobody’s salty tears fear wars over water
listen to the lap-lap-lapping of the weedy Bure
sadly my song’s whiskey my sadness.
overwhelming my heart slows.
arrhythmia getting worse day-by-day
water peeled…

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John E Marks

John E Marks

506 Followers

I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can