A trilogy of poems

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote a set of poems out of raw emotion. I was sitting in my school library when I wrote these and I'll admit, it was very therapeutic to finish these poems. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading my poems!

Submitted: February 21, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 21, 2017




It never stops

Ignoring toes’ plea

Soles bound to the Earth

As they walk upon these tiny shores


It never stops

Hands moving all the same

One in front of the other

Circling the endless path


It never stops

Unwinding in the air

Pulsing through veins

Tilting and rotating all around


It never stops

Trails splitting

And streams forming

Following the pace unnerved


It never stops

From green to brown

And brown to green

All the same


It continues

Voices growing distant

Soles beginning to burn

Buried beneath the tiny shores


It continues

Fingers rusting

And losing rhythm

Trudging along the infinite


It continues

Lost in the air

Pulsing through discolored veins

Moving past the still


It continues

Trails unmet

And streams to end

Developing a rhythm of new


It continues

From light to dark

And dark to light

It stays the same







Number 50

Where are you now?

Where does the crimson flow?

Striding through the passages


Number 50

The bearer of fortune

An absence of such divine blessing

And a present of the past


Number 50

Where is the fountain?

Of such youth

Spinning in circulation


Number 50

Where are you?







A gale in the distance

One of many tales

And endless screams

The disfiguring stability


Mane of the beast

Seen through the whirlwinds above

Ferocious roars shaking the seams below

The core draws near


A beating center

Rhythmically authentic but foreboding

Riding on the territories yet to be

Carried by the distant tempest


The claws

Constantly seeking

With precision and efficiency

Marked by all as daft about


The earth beneath trembles

With the closing of the beast

The low grumbling;

The shadow of its posture


Quivering from fruitless efforts

Brace yourself

For the beast’s gale

Is just one of many tales

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