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Meta
Tag Archives: dark
Daisy
The daisy listens to the dark pressing inward– a mute, glistening.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged daisy, dark, glisten, haiku, John Biscello, love, poem
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Fount
I have heard her sing, lungs, founting with light, to braid dark hours into grace.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dark, fount, grace, haiku, John Biscello, Light, lungs, poem, singing, song
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Lash
The scarring gleam, to produce penitent beads of sorrow, through a lashed eye, darkly. (Photo by Man Ray)
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dark, eye, gleam, John Biscello, Light, Man Ray, photo, poem, Poetry, scars, sorrow, tears
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Remainder
Sometimes, the children who have gone underground, the chance orphans who choose spelunk or burrow or blackest pitch out of necessity and survival instinct, leave behind tangible remnants of their former lives, sacrificed to sights and gods unseen by morally … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged beach, cave, children, dark, John Biscello, loss, poem, Poetry, rock, shoe, sneaker, survival, tunnel, underground
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Opaque
Rebirthing, within fathomless hues, beyond the opaque rim, and vanishing, someone waits to claim your life anew.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged baptism, dark, hues, John Biscello, lake, moody, New Mexico, opaque, photo, poem, Poetry, rebirth, ritual, water
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Fairy Tale
It is the other stepsister, the disinherited one, known only as The Vamp, who played dark foil to Cinderella’s happiness, when she seduced and blackmailed the Prince, ignited a calculated run of scandals, and forced Cinderella to yield the glass … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged alfred steiglitz, cinderella, dark, fairy tale, foot, John Biscello, poem, shoe, slipper, stepsister, vamp
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Ember
How a writer, cave-timing dark and solitude, annoints an ember by crafting the small hours into a flagrant torch.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged craft, dark, dreams, ember, John Biscello, Literary, Poetry, solitude, torch, writing
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Darking Anya
Remember when we were kids and we’d sometimes have sleepovers and listen to the dark together? That’s what you called it, Anya, listening to the dark. Sometimes we’d pretend to be camping. We’d make a tent on my bedroom … Continue reading
John Biscello 